


A Spell for Happiness

by AtropaAzraelle (Polyoxyethylene)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Drama, Falling In Love, First Kisses, Fish out of Water, Fluff, Gladnis Week, M/M, Romance, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12969615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyoxyethylene/pseuds/AtropaAzraelle
Summary: Ignis had always thought he was happy, but when he meets Gladio he finds a happiness he had never known under the sea.Final Entry for Gladnis Week. It's the Mermaid!AU nobody expected, for the Fantasy AU prompt.





	1. Chapter One: Curiosity killed the Catfish

**Author's Note:**

> Buckle in kids, this is a long one.
> 
> My deepest and most heartfelt gratitude to Sauronix, without whose help this wouldn't have happened. You've been the best editor and friend a girl could have, and I love you <3
> 
> And my thanks to everyone that has been reading and commenting so far on my Gladnis Week entries, and my other fics. I hope you've enjoyed it, and I hope you enjoy this, too.

“Noct!” The slim figure of Ignis' young charge was little more than a speck up ahead, and Ignis heaved a sigh before racing after him. “ _Noct!_ ”

“You don't have to babysit me, Ignis,” Noct said, when Ignis had almost caught up. “I'm sixteen; I don't need a minder anymore.”

Ignis scowled and drove himself harder until he could reach out to wrap a hand around Noct's tail and yank. Noctis gave an undignified yelp as Ignis pulled him up short, and finally came level with him. “The surface is dangerous,” he said.

“So dad keeps telling everyone,” Noct replied, all the worldly wisdom of a sixteen year old written across his face and creeping into his voice, “but have you ever been?”

“No,” Ignis replied, “because it's dangerous.” He gestured to the surface, which lingered so much closer than Ignis would have liked. There was a boat up there, a big human thing, like the wrecks that littered the ocean floor and which Ignis had _also_ failed to keep Noct from investigating. “There are men up there, Noct. Men with nets. Do you know what they might do to you if they caught you?”

Noct sank in the current a little, until Ignis was looking down at him. His iridescent blue tail swished unhappily in the water, and Ignis knew he was about to be played, and worse, he knew it was likely to work. He never had been able to find it in himself to refuse Noct when he was upset. “I just want to see,” he said. “I promise I won't get close.”

Ignis looked at Noctis, his fins curling at the obvious emotional blackmail, yet by the way Noct's dark blue eyes pleaded, and his fins drooped and folded listlessly, he knew he was doomed. He rolled his eyes, giving the surface above them another unhappy look before he conceded, “All right, but I'm coming with you.”

“Thanks, Specky,” Noctis said, and there was such genuine warmth and happiness in Noct's smile that Ignis couldn't really bring himself to regret it.

“Stop calling me that,” he complained as he set off again after Noct, this time at a more relaxed pace. Noct was the only one who used the nickname now, but he'd gained it when his scales turned from the dull silver of youth to the vigorous colour of adulthood. His colour had bloomed one scale at a time, so that for nearly three years, he'd been silver and green speckled. They'd thought, for a while, that he might stay that way, but gradually, ever so gradually, the green had come through to its full, brilliant lustre, matching Noct's royal blue in iridescence.

Like Noct's colour, it matched his eyes. That was supposed to be a lucky sign, although Ignis had always testily pointed out that not all luck was good, and Ignis in particular seemed to use up his reserves in the act of keeping Noct safe. The prince was, in his turn, headstrong and curious, and interminably unmotivated. The only thing Noct ever had any enthusiasm for was doing something he shouldn't be doing. Ignis had long resigned himself to a life of chasing Noct down to either keep him out of trouble or get him to finish his schoolwork.

Noct broke the surface first, and Ignis followed scant seconds later. The air was cold, biting his delicate flesh, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the change in pressure. He dipped down again until his gills were under the waterline, but Noct kept his head and shoulders above the surface, looking up. A vast blackness like a second ocean hung over their heads, but it was colder, less dense, and somehow much more frightening. Points of light shimmered like the hunting lures of thousands of the deepest dwelling fish, too close for Ignis' liking.

Noct's attention drifted toward the human ship. Noise was coming from it, although Ignis' ears couldn't make any sense out of it. Everything sounded wrong up here, including Noct's voice when he said, “Come on, let's get closer.”

Noct leapt for the ship before Ignis could reply, and his hand caught empty water as Noct's fins slipped out of reach. Perhaps if he indulged this for a few more minutes, he could tell Noct his curiosity had been more than satisfied and get him to return home, with another illicit adventure on their record and another close escape sipping away at Ignis' luck. He ducked below the surface and swam after Noct, managing to keep his tail from disturbing the surface, and wincing at the noise of Noct's surface-breaking splashes and leaps.

“You sound like a dolphin in distress,” he scolded. “Keep a lower profile, unless you want to attract sharks.”

Noct flicked around to swim on his back, giving Ignis a bright grin. “Don't be such a blobfish,” he retorted. “It's fine.”

“How I long for the days when drawing you from your hollow was my biggest trial,” Ignis muttered, but sped up to match Noct’s pace.

They broke the surface again more quietly, lurking in the shadow of the ship. The noise from it now was raucous, and if Ignis listened, he could discern a rhythm to it, and the sound of voices. The were lights, too, bright and frightening. 

A screech pierced the air, sending a ripple of warning down Ignis' lateral line that had him ducking into the water again. It was followed by a bang and an explosion of colour over their heads. Noct stared at it, marvelling, oblivious to his senses. It was followed by another, and another, the sky lighting up in plumes in red, and green, and blue, and white, and as it went on, Ignis found himself becoming transfixed, too.

It was beautiful, if loud, and didn't seem to pose a danger, so he let himself relax and enjoy the show. The light reflected off the ocean's surface, painting it with colour, and smoke drifted through the sky over their heads. After a final chorus of noise and colour that drowned out the points of light in the sky and splashed it with a mishmash of vibrant hues, noise erupted from the ship.

Cheering, Ignis realised. That was the sound of cheering above the water's surface. Noct glanced at him, and Ignis knew before the boy even moved what he was planning to do next. “No,” he hissed, reaching for Noct's arm, or tail, whatever he could catch, but Noct moved too quickly for Ignis. “You'll be seen!”

“I'll be fine,” Noct replied, slipping away to grasp the hard metal chain that hung in the water and starting to haul himself up. “I just want to look at them.”

“ _Noct_ ,” Ignis hissed, not wanting to raise his voice too much in case they were heard. The humans on the ship made sufficient noise that they weren't likely to be, but he didn't want to take the risk, not with Noctis climbing up their anchor. He watched as Noct clambered up, hand over hand, his tail hanging uselessly behind him, waiting for a cry, a call, some indicator that Noct was now in serious danger.

It didn't come. Noct halted when he reached a lip in the ship's side, clinging with all his strength. Ignis held his breath, watching and waiting, and then Noct turned to look at him, and waved his arm hurriedly, motioning Ignis to follow.

Ignis cast around, but there was no help here at the surface. There was no way for him to shout at Noct to get down from there, to tell him he wasn't coming up, not without alerting the humans, too. Not for the first time, Ignis found himself sorely wishing he could just tell Noct's father what his son got up to. He'd have his fins clipped for sure, but Ignis couldn't bring himself to deny Noct what little freedom he might be able to grasp; when it was his turn to lead, his life would be filled with duty and responsibility. What harm would a little freedom do now?

Ignis swam over to the anchor chain and gripped it, beginning to climb, still wondering why he was doing it. His body felt heavy, his tail hanging uselessly instead of propelling him. There was always a downward pull below the surface, but in the air, it was almost overwhelming and there was nothing to help him fight it. How did humans live like this? Every movement was at once too easy, and utterly powerless.

He saw Noct adjust his grip on the ship, and Ignis understood why. His arms were aching with the act of supporting his entire weight, which felt so much greater without his natural buoyancy to aid him.

The sight that greeted him when he reached the deck was a strange one. There were humans, all right. He'd seen images of them before in salvaged portraits and carved stones that had come to rest with their unluckier ships; they were always upright, moving around on two strangely deformed tails that only seemed to bend in one direction. They were clothed, too, every one of them. Not that Ignis could blame them, with this uncomfortable bite of air against his flesh. It chilled his scales and pricked at his upper body; the ocean could be cold, certainly, but merfolk only decorated themselves with seasilks and shells and pearls for formal occasions. Humans, it seemed, wore their wealth all the time.

He looked across the assembly of humans going about their business. Someone was talking, and others were pouring red liquid into cups. Ignis wondered if they had to swallow water that way to stop themselves from drying out, although why it was red, he couldn't say. One human sat, much as Noct's father did, slightly above the activity, and with the distinct impression that it was going on around him, rather than his being a part of it. He was large, broad shouldered and muscled, with dark hair, including some on his face around his jaw.

Ignis felt his fins curling and tried to shake his mind clear. He wondered what that human might look like with a single tail, instead of that strange deformity, and what colour his scales might be. Something warm, he found himself thinking, something bright and warm; he had that feeling to him.

“We've seen enough,” he said softly, turning to Noctis. They had glimpsed humans, in all their strange form, moving around in air in ways so unlike the movement of merfolk through water. They were different from how Ignis had imagined, stranger, and yet—perhaps—alluring. Still, they'd be in danger if they were seen.

Noct, however, was looking out across the ocean. “What is it?” Ignis asked.

“Magic,” Noct answered, quietly.

“Whose?” Ignis asked. Noct was more sensitive than himself, more powerful. Ignis had learned control where Noct had mastered raw power, but Noct's instincts were always that little bit sharper as a result. Magic resonated with magic, after all, and Noct had more to resonate.

“I don't know,” Noct answered.

“Come on,” Ignis said, “let's go.” If Noct didn't know who it was, then it wasn't someone looking for them, but that didn't make it safe to cross paths with whoever wielded such power. They were still in Noct's father's territory, but Regis had always maintained a strict non-interference policy when it came to humans.

Light cracked in the sky, and the air boomed with a pressure Ignis had never felt before. It sent a pulse through his lateral line that almost stunned him, leaving him weak. Noctis was similarly affected, and they dropped from their hold on the ship back into the water. The sea churned and frothed, charged with a powerful magic, and Ignis dragged Noct by the arm deeper under the surface, to safety.

The water above lit up brightly, and then pulsed, and stung. Ignis heard Noct scream, and he yelped himself as he was paralysed by the strike, fighting to recover. It was like swimming too close to an eel—a very large, very angry eel. Ignis' movements were left twitchy and uncoordinated as he fought to reach Noct, who drifted slowly down into the darkness. He willed his muscles to move.

Noct was recovering by the time Ignis got there, though his tail was still twitching uselessly. He was staring up toward the surface. “The ship,” he said.

Ignis turned. Above them, far above them now, the wooden ship was bright and orange. Splintered wood floated on the water's surface, barely discernible shadows against the flickering light. Ignis had never seen anything like it before, and he stared, transfixed, as people, _humans_ , started jumping into the water.

They couldn't swim, he realised. Humans couldn't swim. They were a long way from shore, and none of them knew how to move their arms or lower half to propel themselves through the water. They were no more able to swim than Ignis was able to stand upright.

“We have to help!” Noct said, turning and swimming hard for one figure that had already begun to drop below the surface, weighed down by his clothes and decorations.

Ignis grabbed for Noct, calling to him. “Noct!” They weren't to help; it was a punishable offence in his father's kingdom to rescue a human. Many lifetimes ago, merfolk and humans had an uneasy relationship. Any human that helped merfolk was gifted a charm, to have the favour repaid when they might have need of it, or when their descendants required it. When the debt was repaid and the charm was returned it was imbued with the life magic of those that had worn it, resonating with the heart it had rested near and lending that strength to the Mer to whom the charm belonged.

Humans no longer helped merfolk, and charms were no longer given out to worthy humans because there were no worthy humans. The merfolk had been forced to abandon their homes near the coast as humans washed their sewage into the waters the merfolk inhabited. The only good human, as far as the merfolk were concerned, was a dead one.

Ignis saw Noct grab the blond human that was sinking and drag him up toward the surface. He couldn't help. He _shouldn't_ help, but the sounds of men thrashing in the water, sounds he knew would draw sharks, and the feeling of magic all around, made him hesitate. This wasn't a natural disaster the humans could have avoided; someone with magic had done this to them. Perhaps merfolk were forbidden from rescuing humans, but what about setting out to harm them? Was that acceptable?

The boat started to dip below the surface, dropping down into the seas. It rolled, and something slid into the water, unmoving and helpless. Ignis saw the broad shoulders of the man he'd watched before and felt his resolve snap. He darted forward and up, catching the unconscious form drifting toward a watery doom, and swam as hard as he could for the surface. The man’s skin was warm, warmer than Ignis', but that meant he'd lose heat quickly in the water.

When Ignis broke the surface, he pulled the man's head above the waterline and looked around for Noct. The air was scented with something acrid and unpleasant, and still crackled with the residue of magic. He sighted Noct, swimming on his back with the blond gasping for breath in his arms, head held safely above water. The shoreline was several miles away, but it wouldn't be a hard swim, even with the extra burden.

After a few minutes, the man in his arms stirred, coughing and sucking in air. He tried to move, tried to swim in that graceless, ineffective way Ignis had seen the other humans attempt. The humans they had been unable to save. Ignis shifted his grip, holding the man's arms still as he pushed them both along with just his tail. “I've got you,” he said, firmly, though his voice sounded higher in the air than he was used to.

“Who are you?” the man croaked. Ignis felt a pleasant shudder go through his fins at the sound; he'd sound divine beneath the waves.

“That doesn't matter,” Ignis replied, adjusting his grip on the man. “Just relax. You're making this harder than it has to be.” He called on his reserves of magic, scales flashing brightly as he did, and placed his hand over the man's forehead. “Sleep,” he commanded.

The man in his arms relaxed by degrees, becoming soft and pliant, and easier to handle. Ignis readjusted his grip again, and powered along. He hoped Noct had the good sense to put his own rescuee to sleep, but he was too far away for that conversation when they needed to keep these men above the water.

As they approached the shore, Ignis took a small diversion, hauling the man onto a sandy inlet nearby. Noct had no doubt taken his charge up to the shore, and Ignis didn't wish to risk being seen if he was already awake and moving.

He laid the man out on his back, checking him over. His tails were strange things, Ignis concluded, far too rigid and wholly unsuited to swimming; no wonder they'd had such difficulty. His arms were broad and muscled, as were his shoulders, and he was longer than Ignis, laid out on the sand. His skin wasn't waterproof either, Ignis noted; the skin of his fingers was wrinkled and soft, having grown waterlogged.

A gash down his face, over his eye, was still bleeding faintly. Ignis raised a hand, scales shimmering with magic, before he placed it over the wound and stopped the bleeding. It left a line, a delicate scar, but human skin was different to merfolk skin, and perhaps that was just how they healed. He raised his hand again, pressing it to the man's forehead, and said, “Waken.”

The man stirred, and Ignis fled, diving back into the water with a splash. He took refuge behind some rocks and watched as the man, already sitting up and scanning the ocean, brought his hand up and felt along his healed wound. He looked out at the ocean again, curious, and Ignis, satisfied, slipped beneath the surface to find Noctis and drag him home.


	2. Chapter Two: The Right Thing

It was a long swim back to the kingdom. The waters were dark, but the dawn tides were starting to shift as they approached the Lucian border.

“We did the right thing,” Noct said, finally. It had been a long swim undertaken largely in silence. Ignis found himself struggling to forget the heat of the man's skin in his arms as he'd dragged him to the shore. All other souls on that ship must have been lost, he knew, but they'd saved two. Two too many, by their laws, and yet... “You felt it too, right? They weren't bad men.”

“No,” Ignis agreed softly, “they weren't.” The large one that Ignis had saved had a warmth to him that went beyond his skin. Humans had their own kind of magic, a power they couldn't wield and perhaps weren’t aware of, and the man’s had licked tenderly at Ignis' own, reassuring and comforting. It was the magic of a protector, of one who sacrificed for others. There was strength and power in there, but it wasn't used to attack. It was a shield.

Ignis had spent less consideration on the one Noct had rescued, but he'd put Ignis in mind of tropical currents, swarming with hundreds of brightly coloured fish and flickering shoals. Warm, and light, and easily distracted. Neither of them had been bad people. Ignis didn't honestly think he could identify any of them that had been, any that had deserved to die, but they'd been able to save only two.

“So we did the right thing,” Noct repeated.

Ignis sighed. “We shouldn't have been there to begin with, Noct.” It wasn't a matter of doing the right thing; they shouldn't have been in a position to make such decisions in the first place. If they had been below the surface where they belonged, safely ensconced within the realm of Regis's influence, they would never have known there was a choice.

“I won't tell if you won't,” Noct replied, flashing Ignis a bright smile.

If only it could be so easy. When they reached the palace, there were guards at the gate. Noct hesitated, looking at them, as did Ignis.

“Is something wrong?” Ignis asked, looking from one guard to the other, their tridents barring the doors without doing anything so crass as blocking the way. Unconsciously, he made sure to tuck Noct behind himself.

“Ignis Scientia?” the first one asked.

“Yes,” Ignis answered, feeling his stomach dropping into his tail.

“We have instruction to take you into custody.”

“What?” Noct's indignation broke the tension, and he ducked under Ignis' arm. “What for?”

“The crown prince is to come with me,” said the second guard.

Ignis straightened, drawing himself to his full length. “The crown prince is going nowhere,” he said, “until I see someone of authority.”

“Spoken like a true bodyguard,” came a voice. Ignis turned toward it, and felt his heart at once lighten and sink lower in his gut.

“Marshal,” he said. “What am I charged with?”

Cor was longer than Ignis, and imposing. His tail was a deep red that in the depths of the ocean was less visible even than black, but it was a dull red, not the shining iridescent hues typical among the royal retinue. Cor had earned his place on fighting skill and tactical acumen alone, and he'd earned every ounce of the respect he commanded. “You were seen,” he said, his voice low and resonant, “taking an injured human towards land. As was the prince. What were you doing on the surface?”

Ignis felt his heart hammer in his chest, his gills working to take in oxygen while he thought quickly. “I'd ask the same of your informant,” he said.

“Don't worry,” Cor replied, “we will. Were you at the surface?”

If they denied it, it wouldn't take much for the mystery informant to guide them to the approximate location, and less still for them to find the wreck. Denial would get them nowhere, then. At this point, all Ignis could do was damage control. “We were,” he said. Cor looked unsurprised. “Noctis came at my behest.”

That drew a reaction, not just from Noct, who spun to look at Ignis, wild-eyed and disbelieving, but also from Cor, whose eyebrows raised a fraction. “Your behest?”

“Specky, no,” Noct began. Ignis held up a hand to silence him.

“I was curious,” he said. “Our longstanding currents are becoming flooded with human traffic; we'll need new navigation systems in time. I thought to look for another reference point for navigation across the open ocean, however dangerous the surface may be.”

Cor gave a small nod at that, seeming begrudgingly impressed. “And what did you find?”

“A ship,” Ignis answered, his eyes flicking to Noct, who was wearing the same hopeful look he'd worn as a child whenever Ignis had told untruths to get him out of trouble.

Cor's eyes flicked to Noct. Noct never had been good at keeping the truth from his face, and Ignis knew that was likely to be their undoing. “In distress?” he asked.

Ignis drew himself up. “Not originally,” he said. “Someone attacked them. We felt the magic, and the ship was struck.”

“So you saved the humans,” Cor supplied, folding his arms across his chest.

Ignis bowed his head. “We were in Lucian waters, Marshal. They were attacked by one of our kind. I know the king's policy is non-interference. That attack did not come from Lucian authority.”

Cor sighed. “Be that as it may,” he said, “you saved human lives. That will have consequences.” He dropped his arms again and turned. “The King would see you both. Follow me.”

Noct gave Ignis a wary glance, and Ignis shook his head before he gestured for Noct to go ahead of him. He followed, swimming sedately, his mind roiling with his actions, and its likely consequences. His Majesty could not allow his own son to be seen flouting the laws of their waters; whatever happened, Ignis had to keep knowledge of Noct's involvement to a minimum. Perhaps, if he threw himself on the King's mercy, his punishment might be reduced to imprisonment, or having has magic sealed.

Regis was always an imposing figure on his throne, his black tail gleaming with rainbows of colour where the light moved across his scales. He was bare chested, and scarred, his hair greying with age now, but Ignis could still feel the power that emanated from him. He sat, gripping the arms of his throne, with his eyes on his son as Cor led Noct and Ignis before him.

“Your Majesty,” Cor said, bowing as he moved to the side.

“Is it true?” Regis asked.

“Your Majesty,” Ignis began, drifting forward a little and bowing, with his arm across his chest, but Regis cut him off.

“I was speaking to my son.”

Ignis felt a ripple of dread, and he glanced up to find that Regis still wasn't looking at him. He bowed lower, and drifted back, turning to look at Noct who had gone pale and nervous before his father.

“Is it true?” he repeated.

Ignis saw Noct swallow, and then pull himself to his full length. Noct had so rarely had to deal with his father's ire before; usually Ignis was permitted to speak for them both, but not this time. “They weren't bad people, Father,” Noct said. “They didn't deserve to die.”

“They were humans,” Regis said, his voice low, and steady, and imperious.

“They were under attack!” Noct protested, his voice rising. “I wasn't going to leave them!”

“My own son disobeys my laws,” Regis said.

“Noct acted on my instruction,” Ignis said, interrupting the King, his heart thundering in his throat. His skin prickled all over, and his stomach felt uncomfortably empty, as if his insides had been replaced with a vicious maelstrom into which he might collapse from the inside out.

Regis looked at Ignis, and Ignis felt his every scale recoil from the attention. “I assigned you,” he said, “to protect my son, and in your care he swims through shipwrecks, voyages to the surface, and rescues humans. Do not think your activities these years have gone unnoticed. You are unfit to swim by his side if you cannot keep him from such dangers.”

Ignis felt as if he'd been stung, his tail coiling as he drew back. “It's not his fault!” Noct cried, surging ahead of Ignis, his tail sparkling with the magic that roiled below his scales.

Regis rounded on his son. “I know he didn't tell you to save anyone,” he replied sharply. “He has covered for you too many times, but in so doing, he has never taught you to take responsibility for your own actions. It is high time you learned.” Regis rose from his throne, floating above it, with a flash of colour across his dark scales. “Ignis Scientia,” he said, “you are removed from your duties to the royal household, and banished from Lucian waters.”

The words came like a blow to Ignis' stomach, sending a wave of despair through him. “Your Majesty,” he said weakly, bowing his head and sinking lower.

“Dad, no!” Noct protested, rising higher.

“As for you!” Regis cried, turning to his son again. “You are confined to the palace until I can find you a suitable replacement. Perhaps this way, you will learn that your actions have consequences for people other than yourself.”

Noct swam up to his father, his voice pleading. “Don't do this, please? It's not his fault, he was only trying to keep me safe.”

“A task at which he's been an abject failure,” Regis answered. “Cor,” he said, turning to the Marshal, “escort my son to his rooms. Ignis?”

“Sir?” Ignis responded. Cor drifted over to Noct, taking him gently but firmly by the arm.

“I want you gone from our borders by nightfall,” Regis said, and there was a note of sadness to his tone. “For what it's worth, I have never doubted your loyalty to my son. I'm sorry it has led you to this.”

Ignis couldn't muster a reply to that. He merely bowed low, waiting for Cor to lead Noct from the room, and then followed.

*****

“It's not fair!” Noct argued, pulling at Cor's steadfast grip. “He shouldn't be punishing Ignis.”

“His alternative is punishing you,” Cor answered, his voice low and firm. “You're his only heir. Ignis gave you both a way out by claiming responsibility.”

“But it was me!” Noct wailed. “He only did it because I made him, it's not right! Who even saw us?”

“The only person who could have seen us,” Ignis said dully, “is the person who attacked that ship.”

Noct stilled at that. “What?”

“He's right,” Cor said. “Had it occurred to you that someone is trying to cause upheaval?” he asked, looking at Noct as he pulled him along. “The crown prince, and only heir to the kingdom, interfering in the lives of humans? It presents your father with the choice of banishing you, or ignoring your crimes. Either would cause problems.” Cor shook his head. “Did you never think that someone might have been waiting for this kind of opportunity? That they may have attacked the ship because you were there, and they knew you would do something stupid?”

Noct fell silent, and thoughtful. “I...” he began, and trailed off once more, swimming limply by Cor's side.

“Your father has enemies,” Cor said, “and you are his weakness. If you continue to give them the chance to harm him through you, there won't be a kingdom for you to inherit.”

Ignis stayed nearby as Cor led Noct to his rooms. He had a set of them within the palace, festooned with silks and pearls and corals, and, tucked away in secret places, things he'd retrieved from human shipwrecks. There were waterlogged books that couldn't be opened lest they be destroyed in the act, the pages more delicate than the brined fish skin used for Noct's ordinary books. There were adornments, and paintings, and things that humans wore on the ends of their twin tails.

Ignis knew about them all, and had told Noct to keep them hidden from sight. Now the sight of them turned Noct's stomach. Someone knew, someone had told his father to try and cause trouble for him, and then Ignis had gone and done what Ignis always did, and bailed Noct out, and his father with him. And for his reward, Ignis was being banished.

Talking wouldn't change his father's mind. His father couldn't afford to change his mind. Noct had caused too much trouble, and now the adults were having to sort it out. A King had to make difficult decisions. He'd heard his dad say that many times, and perhaps this was one of those difficult decisions — banishing someone loyal to save those to whom he had sworn his loyalty. Talking and reason wouldn't change his father's mind.

Noct cast his eyes around the room and grabbed his bag. He picked out human trinkets, and valuable jewels and silks, stuffing them haphazardly inside. Right now, Cor would be taking Ignis to his own rooms to let him gather what he needed, and then Ignis would be escorted to the border. Noct would have to act fast.

He shoved the block of coral that marked his sleeping hollow aside and darted down the small hole. He hadn't used it since he was very young, when he and Ignis had snuck out of the palace together to watch the guard, or the way sunlight rippled across the sea floor. It had seemed larger back then; it was a squeeze now, and Noct felt his shoulders catching at the walls.

He squeezed and crawled until he was through, pulling his bag after him with his tail, and then he swam, as hard and fast as he could. There was only one person in all the oceans more powerful than his father. Reason wouldn't work, but reason wasn’t his only option. If Ardyn couldn't help, then no one could.

He kept low to the ocean floor, staying out of view, until he reached the crevasse at the edge of Lucian territory. The creatures that lurked down there were far more dangerous than any human, and he hesitated. He and Ignis had gone once, with an escort guard, to see the strange fish that lived in total darkness. They hadn't gone too deep; it grew intolerably cold and hard to move, and the water was poor for breathing down there. You could survive it, he'd been told, but it wasn't comfortable.

He thought of Ignis, being escorted away from the safety and light of Lucian waters, and dove down. He seemed to swim for an age, feeling woozy and weak as he combed the crevasse walls for what he was looking for. He could feel it, like it was beckoning him, a magic that tugged and pulled at his own, as if it to direct Noct to it.

He swam below a sleeping pod of whales, all upright, their tail flukes hanging below them, suspended and still, and eerie. They were pale shapes even to his eyes, and Noct dipped lower and kicked past them, following the call of magic.

In one side of the crevasse were lights, like lanternfish, but much, much larger. Here. It was here. He swam toward it, and found a tunnel carved out by unnatural means.

“Come in, dear boy,” called a voice from inside. “I've been expecting you.”

Noct steeled himself. The voice was slimy, undulant, and sent a shiver through Noct's fins, but the thought of Ignis being escorted to the edge of safety to make his way on alone made him press on. He swam into the hole, and followed the tunnel along as it wound up and down and through the rock. At the end, it opened into a chamber suffused with an orange light that came from lanterns along the walls.

A merman busied himself within, his hair an untidy cascade of dull purple, his tail a deep nacreous purple that shimmered with rainbows at his every movement. “Wait there, Prince Noctis,” he said without turning around, “I will be but a moment.”

Noctis watched as the man held up a bottle and swirled his hand through the water. Light poured from his hand into the bottle, and his tail brightened and flashed as he worked, pouring the magic in. It coiled in the bottom like a thread, glowing with golden light. Then the man stoppered the bottle, and the light faded, though the bottle remained somehow luminescent.

“Now, then,” he said, turning around. At first glance, his eyes were yellow, but when Noct looked again they seemed merely brown, and he shook his head. The depth and darkness and lack of oxygen must be affecting him. “What brings the Lucian prince to my little hollow?”

Noct looked the man over. So this was Ardyn. He was powerful, unquestionably powerful, but he was also strange and overly friendly. “I thought you were expecting me?” he pointed out.

Ardyn laughed, a low and dangerous chuckle that sent an unpleasant ripple along Noct's scales. “I sensed your approach,” he answered. “Magic calls to magic, and you call quite loudly. As for what drove you here,” he said, waving an arm and drifting around the table in the centre, towards Noct, “you will have to explain, if you want my help.”

Noct didn't want his help. The man was oily and wrong; he put Noct in mind of deep sea fish, and sharks, the ancient kind with too many gills and dead eyes. He moved wrong, and he was strangely predatory in his every action. Noct didn't want his help at all, but he had no choice; Ignis needed it. “My friend,” he said, “he's been banished for my sake.”

“Ah, yes,” Ardyn said, “that whole unfortunate affair with you rescuing some humans.”

“How do you know?” Noct asked, feeling his skin prickle. Whoever had reported them attacked the ship, Ignis had said, and Cor agreed.

Ardyn just gave him a smile, “Don't you know?” he asked. “Everything sinks down to bottom feeders like me sooner or later. Some things sooner than others.”

“It only just happened,” Noct said, through gritted teeth. His scales flashed, and his colour shone.

“To you, perhaps,” Ardyn said, giving an easy, unconcerned shrug. “How long did it take you to drag those men to shore? How quickly do you think word got back? They were waiting for you, weren't they?”

Noct felt his stomach flip. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “yeah, they were.”

“I heard right before I felt you approach,” Ardyn supplied, waving his hand at the bottle he'd just made. “My last customer makes his payments in information. Banishment is the least of your father's punishments for interfering with humans. It's not difficult to work out.”

“Sorry,” Noct said, sinking down towards the floor of the cavern, “it's just...” He trailed off.

“Someone is out to hurt you,” Ardyn said gently. “I understand. Your friend has been punished in your stead, and that feels worse than if you’d been punished.” He drifted closer, curling his fingers under Noct's chin, and Noct looked up, finding himself caught in strange brown eyes. “I can't change your father's mind,” he said. “If magic could do that, I'd rule all the seven seas.”

Noct felt his heart sink. “There has to be something you can do?” he begged.

“I can't change your father's mind,” Ardyn repeated, “or undo what others have done, but perhaps I can help your friend.” He turned to the walls, and the array of bottles and vials upon them. “Yes,” he said, as if to himself.

“How?” Noct asked, watching Ardyn swim up to his stock of potions and spells.

Ardyn drifted along his serried ranks of vials until he found what he was looking for, and plucked it out. He turned, presenting the vial in both hands toward Noct. “A spell for happiness,” he said. “Use it, and whatever the person most desires will be placed within their grasp.”

Noct reached for the vial, which glowed faintly green. Ardyn pulled it back sharply. “Be warned, however. It comes with a price.” He smiled at Noct, in a way that made him shift uncomfortably, feeling as if he was being scrutinised. “Should that price be too much to bear for your dear friend, he need only surrender the thing he desires, and the spell will be broken.”

Ardyn offered the vial out again, and Noct reached out gingerly to take it. “What do you want from me?” he asked warily.

“Nothing!” Ardyn answered, brushing his fingers under Noct's chin, and then circling around him. “I couldn't bear to think of your friend suffering on your account. You get this one for free.” Noct turned, catching sight of Ardyn glancing at his tail before he swam up and away again. “Of course, should you need my help again, it doesn't come cheaply.”

Noct looked at the vial in his hand. “Nothing ever does,” he said softly.

Ardyn smiled at him like a shark. “You should get going, little prince. Your friend will be nearly at the border by now.”

*****

Cor had been the one to escort him to the border. Ignis was almost grateful for that. At the very least, Cor understood the truth of what was happening, and what had happened.

Regis was right, however. Ignis had failed in his duty. He'd been assigned to serve, and protect, to try and curb Noct’s youthful enthusiasm and keep him safe from danger. These were dangerous seas for one as magically powerful as him, and magic always came with a price. Perhaps one day, when Noct was older, his legacy and power would rival that of his father. Ignis had hoped to guide him there one day, to push him forward, always.

He'd left the border of Lucis with Cor's gentle wishes of luck and safety, carrying a small purse of precious belongings. There was the small coral luck charm Noct had given him when they'd first met, crude in its carving, and clashing in its colour. It was painful to look at, though after all that had happened, it was more painful to contemplate leaving it behind. He'd left his books, unable to decide on any in particular, to Noct's inadequate care. He had a few pearls, and gems, his father's charm, and little more.

The ocean floor dropped away beyond Lucian waters. On one side of the territory was a huge crevasse, deep, and dark, and foreboding. They'd ventured into it for schooling, but it was only ever to be crossed with a guard, and Ignis had never allowed Noct to disregard that. All the rest was flat, featureless plains of silt and sand. In one direction, after enough travel, one would find corals, and fish, and, eventually, the shore and humans. In the direction, there was a vast expanse of ocean, a no man's land until one hit the warmer currents of the Altissian territory.

Perhaps a new life in Altissia beckoned. The thought of leaving Lucis, and Noct, ached in his chest, but with no way back, his only route was onwards. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, he thought, as he swam. He'd spent his whole life, all that he remembered of it, chasing Noct's tail, trying to keep the wayward prince from causing too much trouble or coming to any serious harm. Scraped scales and bruised elbows were unavoidable, but Noct had remained mostly safe, and entirely whole in his care.

Perhaps it was time Ignis found something for himself in life. He enjoyed preparing meals; perhaps there was work to be found doing that? A simple job, one that allowed Ignis to go home at the end of the day and curl up in his own hollow to sleep, and have no concerns until he returned the following day. It sounded fanciful, simple and yet so enticing. Perhaps he would even meet someone, some pretty-faced mermaid with whom to raise a brood of children, or some broad-shouldered merman to hold him at night.

Some broad-shouldered merman, he thought, with dark hair, and a close cropped beard around his jaw. One whose chest was as wide as Ignis' own shoulders, and whose skin was warm to the touch. One whose inner magic burned low, and deep, and protective within him.

Ignis laughed bitterly at himself. As if such things hadn't caused him enough trouble already. He swam on, the waters dark with night; he needed to find somewhere to sleep before dawn. Out here, sharks might chance upon him, and they preferred to feed at dawn and dusk.

“Ignis!” The voice carried through the water, projected at him, and Ignis stopped, turning.

“Noct?” he asked in return, amplifying the sound in his throat to travel over a greater distance.

“Wait up!” came the reply.

He could feel him, Ignis realised, swimming hard and drawing closer. His magic was there, unmistakable, all shafts of light among deepwater currents, depths as yet unplumbed, topped with the sparkle of light across sand. Ignis had spent so long in Noct's company he'd barely noticed the presence of his magic; it was just the background noise to Ignis' life. A noise that would be absent from now on.

“You're supposed to be in your rooms,” Ignis said, when Noct was close. He'd been swimming hard, and for some time, his gills working furiously as he finally came to a stop. His chest heaved with the effort of pushing water past his gills. “What do you think will happen when they find you gone?”

Noct looked stubborn. “They won't,” he said.

“You thought that about going to the surface,” Ignis reminded him, his tail flicking with irritation. “What are you doing here?”

“I couldn't let you go without saying goodbye,” Noct said, and Ignis felt the sadness of it wash over him. “I think I found something that'll help,” he added softly.

Ignis sighed. For all his sixteen years, Noct was still a bratty child, unable to accept that sometimes life wasn’t fair. “There's no help to be had now, Noct,” he said gently. “I wish that there were.”

“Please?” Noct asked, giving Ignis a flash of those blue eyes. “Just try it, please?”

Ignis looked as Noct held out a vial that glowed faintly green. Its contents were unquestionably magical; he could feel it even from here, even without opening the bottle. “Where did you get this?” he asked, reaching out to take it from Noct.

“It doesn't matter,” Noct said evasively.

“Noct.” Ignis said the name like a warning, a command to tell the truth.

Noctis huffed and threw his arms up. “My dad's stores, okay?” he answered. “I snuck out to see if there was anything that could change his mind.”

Ignis shook his head. “Magic such as that would be very dark, Noct. Your father would never keep it.”

Noct huffed, and folded his arms, avoiding Ignis' gaze. “I know, but I hoped—” he began, and then stopped, and shook his head. “It's supposed to grant happiness. It's supposed to make whatever you most desire into something you can get, if you want to take it. If you reject it, the spell breaks. I thought...” Noct swished his tail uncomfortably, daring a glance at Ignis. “I thought, if your happiness was your place with me, maybe it would help.”

Ignis looked at the awkward youth on his prince's face, and swept forward, encircling his arms around the boy and holding him. “I've never wanted anything more,” he assured him.

Noctis hung there in Ignis' arms, sullen and embarrassed. “So you'll use it?” he asked.

Ignis released him and drifted back a little. “Spells such as these are difficult,” he said. “They can put strange events into motion, dangerous ones, even. I wouldn't wish for it to work by endangering you, and forcing your father to rescind my banishment because I saved you.” He shook his head. “All magic comes with a price, Noct. For this one to grant happiness, its toll will be very high.”

“But if it lets you come back,” Noct pressed, “it's easy to break the spell, so it's worth a try, right?”

Ignis almost laughed at Noct’s belief that rejecting something you desired could be so easy. If you desired something enough to endure the trials the spell presented, and pay whatever toll it exacted, then giving up what it offered would be no easier than going through the trials of the spell itself. He was, in the end, still a boy. One who had never known unfulfilled longing.

“I suppose,” Ignis conceded.

“So do it,” Noct urged. “Use it.”

Ignis looked at him, and then down at the vial. The magic within was starting to come alive, sensing that he was considering it. It swirled within the vial, glowing brighter. Perhaps what would most bring him happiness was his place with Noct, he thought, or perhaps it was something else he hadn't thought of yet. Would the magic know? Would it let him choose? No, of course it wouldn't, but a chance for happiness was something he'd be foolish to pass up.

He nodded and squeezed the vial in his fingers. It cracked, and the magic leaked out, swirling around him.


	3. Chapter Three: A Spell for Happiness

It burned. The magic burned where it settled on his skin, searing fire working its way into his gills and leaching under his scales. Ignis screamed, writhing as it tore through his tail, feeling like he was being torn in half. Dimly, he was aware of Noct shouting his name, panic in his voice, and then he felt the pressure on him. He tried to draw in water over his gills, but only sucked water into his mouth, his head pounding and his heart throbbing hard in his ears.

Cold hands looped under his arms, and Ignis tried to fight for the surface. His face burned; he couldn't see in the darkness, couldn't breathe, and something was pulling him down, down into the depths. He fought against it, but the hands tightened around his chest and there was agony as something hit him where the tattered ruin of his tail lay split.

The water broke with a crash, and cold air hit Ignis' skin, and he _breathed_. His chest worked to draw in great, sucking lungfuls of blessed air. The arms around him didn't slip, and he was pulled onto his back, facing up. He coughed and spat seawater, taking in grateful gasps into his burning chest.

“What happened?” He heard Noct's voice, was somehow aware that Noct was speaking to him. He heard him say, “Specky?” and when that got no response, more loudly, “Ignis?”

Ignis groaned, but he was too weak to swim. His tail still burned, hanging limply in the water, useless and broken, and he saw nothing but the darkness of the deepest ocean ravines.

“Hang in there, Ignis,” Noct said, pulling him through the water. “I think I know where to take you.”

*****

Dawn smeared the sky in orange and pink as Gladio kicked his way along the beach. He'd come down for a run. Running on sand was great for stamina, but everyone had tried to talk him out of it. He should rest, they said. He'd had a shock.

Idly, he fingered the scar down his cheek. When he got down here, he hadn't felt like running, but he could walk, his feet taking him along the waterline. Every so often, he bent to pick up a pebble, turning it in his hands to examine the smooth surface, and then toss it out to the sea. It skipped three times, and then went under with a plop, and Gladio sank his hands back into his pockets and sighed.

He and Prompto were the only survivors of the shipwreck. He'd lost so many good men, good friends, on that ship. The storm had come up from nowhere; he remembered the yelling, and the thunder, and then the lightning striking the ship. He didn't remember anything after that. He thought he remembered arms around him, he thought he remembered a voice, a man’s voice, telling him to sleep. He thought he remembered a flash of green, and the splash of water, but none of it made any sense. No one could have swum with him to shore; he and Prompto had been the only survivors, and Prompto had been out cold on the sand a hundred feet down the beach.

He considered turning back. He wasn't running, except away, so he wasn't getting anywhere like this. Whatever had really happened, there was no mystery saviour in the water. He just wished he could make sense of his own memories.

“Maybe a mermaid rescued us?” Prompto had suggested, weak and exhausted in his bed after Gladio had dragged him to the palace. Gladio had laughed. It made about as much sense as anything else did right now.

A voice caught his attention, higher up the beach, followed by some urgent splashing. It was followed by a cough and a groan, definitely male. “Someone there?” he asked.

There was a gasp, and then another groan, and Gladio jogged around the rock formation blocking his view. There on the beach, naked, was a man, tall and lean, and struggling to put his knee in the sand to help himself up. He was trembling, shivering, and Gladio dropped to his knees next to him. “You okay? What happened?”

The man's face turned toward him, and Gladio leaned back. His eyes were white, their colour faded behind scarring, and his face was torn up and bleeding. “Where..?” he asked, and then his face contorted in pain and he groaned, putting a shaking hand to his legs.

“You're on the beach,” Gladio said, reaching out to carefully place a hand on the man's shoulder. His skin was half frozen under Gladio's touch, and Gladio felt him flinch away. “You're pretty beaten up. Do you remember how you got here?”

The man stared at him, eyes searching for his face. “I can't see,” he said, as if he'd only just realised it. “I can't...” he repeated, and then he turned sharply toward the water and cried, “Noct!”

Gladio looked out at the water, too, piecing together what must have happened. That storm had been two nights ago, and maybe another ship had gotten caught in it. If Gladio had survived, been carried here safely by a lucky current, maybe this guy had, too.

“Noct!” he cried again, and then made a move toward the water.

Gladio caught him. The man was weak as a kitten, and no match for Gladio's hold on his shoulders. “Easy, there,” he said, “you're in no shape to go for a swim.”

“I have to,” the man said, his voice wavering.

“Look,” Gladio said, being firm, “let's get your wounds tended, and then we'll get a boat, and go out there, and look for Noct, okay?” He had no idea who Noct was, but if there was another potential survivor, Gladio didn't want to leave them to flounder and drown if there was a chance they might be found.

“It's no use,” the man said, and he would have collapsed back into the sand if Gladio hadn't caught him. “It should have killed me.”

Gladio knew how that one felt. He frowned, looking at the man. He was lean and toned; he had a fit and healthy body, a strong body, but his legs were like jelly and he was only halfway coherent. Whatever had happened, he'd been through the wringer. Gladio felt a kinship with him for that alone. “Yeah, but it didn't,” he said, “so come on.”

Gladio lifted the man into his arms, and he trembled at Gladio's touch, his fingers finding Gladio's shirt and curling into it. Gladio lifted him from the sand, staggering a bit as he found his balance with the added weight, though the man was surprisingly light. “The name's Gladio,” he said, looking down as the man's cheek came to rest against Gladio's shoulder. “What's yours?”

“Ignis,” he said, quietly. “My name's Ignis.”

Ignis was unconscious by the time Gladio reached the palace. The staff fussed, as expected, but Gladio refused to let Ignis be taken from him by anyone. Instead, he carried him to one of the spare bedrooms, bundling him into the bed so he could warm up and dry off. Servants were sent to find some fitting clothes for the man; willing as Gladio was to lend his own, Ignis was leaner and shorter than Gladio.

While a medic arrived and checked Ignis over, Gladio went down to the port, pulling out his rowboat. It was only small, only meant for fishing off the shore, but if there was someone out there, he wanted to look. He'd promised Ignis he would.

The captains of the larger ships said they would keep their eyes peeled. Outgoing vessels agreed to bring back anyone they might find; Gladio promised a reward if they did. Incoming ones, however, had seen no no debris floating on the waves, no sign of a ship in distress, or survivors from a wreck.

Gladio rowed out anyway, but the seas were calm and empty. “Noct!” he called, hoping he'd heard the name right. “Noct!” Ignis had sounded so desperate when he'd cried the name, and Gladio wondered who Noct was to him. A friend, a brother? Something else, perhaps?

_It's no use_. His voice had been filled with despair as Ignis had said that, and Gladio hoped Ignis hadn't been forced to abandon someone, to let them slip below the waves to save himself.

Gladio stayed out until sunset, finding nothing. There was a splash in calm seas, a flash of something blue out of the corner of his eye when he'd spent too long on the water without eating or drinking. But there was nothing else. He rowed to shore, made his way back to the palace, only to be told Ignis was awake.

“How is he?” he asked the medic.

“A mystery is what he is,” said Firion. “Amnesia,” he added, looking up at Gladio with sharp eyes. “The strangest presentation I've ever seen. And he's blind. He says that's new, although I don't know if we can really trust that. Aside from nearly drowning and whatever did that to his face scrambling his brain, he's relatively fit and healthy.”

Gladio hummed thoughtfully. You found men sometimes, sailors, that had been out at sea too long, and lost their ships or worse. Sometimes they didn't come back the same. The oceans left their mark on men's minds. Maybe there were just some things Ignis didn't want to remember. “He okay for visitors?”

“As much as he could be,” Firion answered. “He's jumpy, though.”

“Anyone would be after what he's been through,” Gladio replied.

He knocked on the door to Ignis' room and waited. After a moment, a voice from within called, “Enter.”

Gladio did. Ignis was sat up in bed, the wounds on his face bandaged, one eye covered by the clean white dressings. He was running a piece of material through his fingers, seemingly concentrating on it. “Do you remember me?” Gladio asked.

Ignis stilled in his examination of the shirt he'd been given and his face turned toward Gladio. One milky eye sought him out before it gave up, and Gladio wondered if Ignis could see anything at all. “You're the one who found me,” Ignis said, after a moment. “Gladio.”

Gladio smiled, feeling warmth bubble and burst in his chest. “That's me,” he confirmed.

“Thank you,” Ignis said, and then his shoulders drooped and his head hung. “For everything, truly.”

“Hey, no sweat,” Gladio said, taking the recognition as permission to approach the bed. He saw Ignis turn his face away from him slightly, and then realised he was probably listening, and made sure to step a little harder so Ignis could hear him approach. “I survived a shipwreck myself just yesterday. I know what you're going through.”

Ignis opened his mouth to say something, and then turned his face away, murmuring, “I doubt that, but thank you.”

Gladio mentally kicked himself and ran a hand up into his hair, scraping through the strands. “Yeah, I came out of it better than you did,” he agreed. “Sorry, that was stupid of me.”

“No,” Ignis said, shaking his head, but keeping his face turned away, “it wasn't. I'm just...” He fell silent, as if unable to put words around whatever he was thinking.

Gladio supplied, “Still reeling?”

“Yes,” Ignis said, a small, sad smile crossing his face. “They told me you went looking for Noct.” He turned toward Gladio once more, though his aim was off and he ended up looking too far to Gladio's right. “You didn't have to do that.”

Gladio swallowed the lump in his throat. “I didn't find him,” he admitted.

Ignis shook his head before Gladio could apologise. “I didn't expect you to,” he said, “but the fact you looked at all is...” He trailed off and swallowed, flashing Gladio a sad but genuine smile. “Suffice it to say, the sentiment is appreciated.”

Gladio found himself smiling at that, and he pressed a hand to the mattress, pushing it down a little before he took a seat. Ignis followed the movement with his head, his fingers curling into the material of the shirt. “I know you don't remember much, and you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to,” Gladio said, “but if you want to, when you're ready, I'll listen, and I'll help you if I can.”

Ignis laughed at that, a little bitter. “You've already been too kind. I couldn't place further burdens on you.”

Gladio reached out and covered Ignis’ hand with his own. Ignis froze and looked up sharply, directly at Gladio's face. “It's not a burden,” Gladio said, looking back at the one white eye that was fixed on him. “I want to help.”

He watched Ignis' Adam's apple shift as the man swallowed and glanced down again at the shirt in his hands, or at Gladio's hand atop his. Gladio couldn't be sure which, and it wasn't as if Ignis could actually see, either. Gladio withdrew his hand, slowly, finding himself strangely reluctant to give up contact with the other man. “Right now I can't even clothe myself,” Ignis murmured.

Gladio reached for the shirt in Ignis' hands and eased it from his unresisting fingers. Somewhere in Ignis' attempts to figure the shirt out, he'd turned it upside down. Gladio righted it and held it open. “Hold your arm out,” he said, gently.

Ignis did, and Gladio slipped the shirtsleeve over his outstretched hand, guiding it up to his shoulder. “Now give me your other hand,” Gladio said, making himself ignore the way Ignis' lips parted, and how smooth and warm his skin felt where Gladio's rough fingers brushed it. 

Ignis offered his other hand, palm up between them. Gently, Gladio took it in his and pushed it back, behind him. Ignis offered no resistance, no hesitation, and Gladio forced himself to swallow over that thought as he led Ignis' hand into his other sleeve, and then helped him shrug the shirt on.

Ignis touched the collar and felt his way down the shirt toward the buttons. “Could you?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Gladio answered, and then, realising his tone was hushed, cleared his throat. Helping someone dress was somehow more intimate than helping someone undress. He tried not to think about how he'd always know what Ignis looked like under his shirt, when the rest of the world wouldn't, and busied himself with taking each small button and pushing it through the matching buttonhole.

Ignis ran his fingers down the line of his chest and stomach created by the shirt's buttons, and Gladio forced himself to look away from the track they made. “What is this made of?” Ignis asked.

“It's just cotton,” Gladio said.

“It's soft,” Ignis said.

Gladio found himself staring at the line of Ignis' mouth, at the slight bow of his upper lip and the soft curve of his lower, and made himself look away. “It's yours now,” he said. “We'll get a tailor in to make you some more clothes when you're strong enough.”

“You don't have to do that,” Ignis said, shaking his head.

“Hey,” Gladio said, making himself grin despite the strange tension that was building in the air, electric and a bit too pleasant for his liking. “I saved your life. That means I'm responsible for you now. I've gotta take care of you; can't go saving a guy and then throw him out on the streets a day later.”

Ignis looked up at him, directly at Gladio's face, and Gladio found himself drawn into that milky gaze, pinned in place by it. Then Ignis blinked, and turned his face away, hiding behind his bandages as he said, “Thank you. For what it's worth, I'm glad it was you that found me.”

Gladio bit his lip, and nodded. “I'm glad it was me too,” he answered. A lot of men had died where he'd survived, and there was that lingering feeling, that conviction he could never quite shake, that someone had rescued him. Helping Ignis felt right, somehow, because of that. Like he owed him, or owed it to the men who hadn't lived to pay it forward and help someone else.

He picked up the trousers from the end of the bed, where they lay folded, and opened them out. “Here, give me your leg,” he said. Ignis just stared, blank confusion in his expression, and Gladio grinned a little. “I'll help you get your trousers on,” he explained. “If, you know...” He fell silent, realising that offering to help Ignis put on some pants was asking if Ignis would be okay with Gladio seeing him half naked. He'd already seen him naked, but now that Ignis was aware of it, it was a bit different.

“O—oh,” Ignis replied, and bowed his head. Gladio saw a faint flush of colour blooming on his skin. “Of course.”

Gladio cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, unless you'd rather—”

“No,” Ignis said, cutting him off. “I appreciate the help. I don't think I could manage, in my current condition.”

He shifted his legs out from under the sheets, and Gladio did his best not to look as he bent and slipped Ignis' feet through the material. He drew them up as far as he could, watching the way Ignis curled his toes, as if he was experimenting with his control of them. “You okay?”

“A little unsteady,” Ignis replied.

Gladio smiled at the admission and took one of Ignis' hands, placing it on his shoulder. “Hold on to me, if it helps.” Ignis eased onto his feet, clinging heavily to Gladio's shoulder as he fought for his balance, and Gladio tugged his trousers the rest of the way up for him, fastening them briskly. “There,” he said, once the task was done. “You feeling up to taking a few steps?” Ignis looked up at him, blind eyes not quite finding Gladio's, but he was so close it didn't make much difference.

“Come on,” Gladio said, slipping his arm around Ignis' waist and holding him up. He guided Ignis to keep one hand on his shoulder, and took his other, turning slightly so they were hip to hip. “I've got you,” he promised.

The first step was faltering. Ignis' leg started to buckle under him the moment he put weight on it, but Gladio held him firm, letting him find his balance again. The second step went a little better, even though Gladio felt Ignis' fingers curl tightly into his shirt. A smile split Ignis' face at the second and third steps. “Keep your head up,” Gladio advised, watching joy cross the man's face, and his own heart swelled in response.

Ignis did, and Gladio realised he was tall. He was used to looking down at people, to talking to a world whose ears were at the level of his armpits, but Ignis was taller. His forehead reached the level of Gladio's lips, and he was close enough that Gladio could see the way his smile made the corners of his eyes crease.

After a few more steps, he felt Ignis releasing his grip on his shirt, and his slow, tentative steps grew less tentative. Very slowly and carefully, Gladio loosened his hold on Ignis' hip, and heard Ignis give a small, breathy chuckle.

He felt the wrongness of Ignis' movement before he saw it, felt the way he slipped before he saw his knee give out. Gladio grabbed him, holding him flush against himself to prevent him from falling, and Ignis clung to his shirt and his arm, his unbandaged eye gone wide. “I got you,” he said reassuringly.

“Thank you,” Ignis said, and slowly found his feet again.

Gladio didn't release him this time, feeling the wobble and waver in Ignis' balance. “You can stop saying that, you know,” he said.

Ignis shook his head. “I don't think I can,” he replied.

Gladio smiled at him, even though he knew Ignis wouldn't be able to see it. Maybe if he smiled hard enough, the man would be able to feel it. “Then say it differently,” he said, watching the way Ignis' eye searched for him in response. “Say it by getting better for me.”

Ignis looked up at him, blind and bandaged, and Gladio realised the man was actually beautiful. He wasn't just handsome; he was pale skin, and a perfectly arched brow, and pretty lips. Marred and hidden as it was by the wounds and the dressings, it hadn't been taken away. He wondered what he'd looked like before, tried to picture Ignis with two unblemished eyes, and he wondered what colour his eyes used to be before the clouded whiteness that had developed over them.

Ignis nodded at him, and Gladio stared for a moment longer before he dragged himself back to his senses. “Let's get you back to bed,” he said.


	4. Chapter Four: What Was Lost

It took Ignis a few days to learn to walk. It came more readily when he didn't try to think it through first. This body knew what it needed to do to achieve locomotion, and Ignis' brain, expecting _legs_ to move like a tail, kept getting in the way.

Gladio was there every day to offer a steadying hand, until eventually Ignis found he no longer needed to keep his grip on Gladio's arm to remain steady. Still, Gladio's arm was offered, and still Ignis took it, feeling a little shiver of something pleasant and frightening go through him at the warmth of Gladio’s skin. Gladio took him on guided tours of his castle, Gladio's warm, rumbling voice washing over Ignis like waves as he described each room.

“This is the library,” Gladio said, as Ignis listened to a door creak and took in an unusual scent. Paper and leather, he'd later learn, and an open fire, crackling with logs of wood that sometimes spat and popped with the sea's salt in the flames.

“It sounds large,” Ignis said. The room beyond gave Gladio's voice harmonics that settled over Ignis and made him think of home. It didn't sound like it was underwater, but it gave a sense of depth and space. The way the sounds spread seemed similar.

Gladio laughed, and Ignis delighted in the sound. “It is,” Gladio confirmed. His tone turned wistful as he added, “When I was a kid, I set out to read every book in here.”

Ignis smiled, his teeth showing as he tried to picture Gladio as a small child, in his mind no bigger than Noct had been as a fry, poring over books nearly as large as himself. “Did you succeed?” he asked.

“Nah,” Gladio answered, with warmth and amusement in his tone. “There are more books here than one man could read in a lifetime.”

Ignis tried to picture that. Human lifespans were shorter than those of merfolk, shy of a hundred cycles of the seasons by a margin. How many books could a man read in that time? “I used to read voraciously myself,” he admitted.

He heard the sound of Gladio's throat working, the awkward gulp and the stilting of his breath as he doubtless kicked himself for bringing Ignis somewhere that would remind him of what he had lost. “Sorry,” he began, “I didn't--”

Ignis shook his head, squeezing the arm beneath his hand with his fingers. “You could regale me with your favourites sometime?” he suggested, his voice quiet, but the silence that followed felt heavy, and there was no sound of Gladio drawing breath.

“Yeah,” he said, eventually, and Ignis heard him breathe again at last, “yeah, I can do that.”

The air turned warm and expectant, and Ignis tilted his head up. This was a moment. He felt it as surely as if he still had fins. There was a magic in the air between himself and Gladio, a sense of something shifting, changing, and Ignis found himself longing for it to last.

Then it passed, and Gladio sounded as if he was smiling when he said, “Come on. That tailor will be here soon. Then we can get you clothes that fit you.”

Being fitted for clothing, Ignis discovered, was a strangely tedious and yet invasive procedure. The sensation of hands passing over his limbs, coiling around his chest and waist, was alien and discomfiting. Then he was given material swatches, feeling out the thread and softness and textures that his clothes would be made from.

“I have no way to pay for this,” he said, quietly, as something as soft as sea silk and as cool as ocean currents passed beneath his fingertips, as smooth as his own scales.

“Master Gladiolus has told us not to concern you with cost,” he was told.

With no idea what was the most expensive, Ignis could do little more than choose the options that most appealed to his senses. Silk and brushed cotton, spun wool and leather made it into his final selections, in suggested shades of black, and green, and blue, and purple. It would take time for the clothing to be ready, he was told, and Ignis found he didn't mind that one bit. After many days of wearing Gladio's clothing, and finally mastering the buttons himself, he was almost sorry to have to return them to their rightful owner.

He was still wearing Gladio's clothes, something soft and too large that hung off his shoulders, the cuffs brushing over his palm as he walked, when Gladio took him down to the beach. The evening air was cool, but not unpleasant, and the sound of waves lapping against the sands was strangely peaceful as Ignis walked with his hand on Gladio's arm. He could feel Gladio smiling at him.

“You're doing well getting around,” he said, sounding happy and genuine.

Ignis bowed his head, a smile coming unbidden to his own face. “It gets easier with practice,” he said.

Gladio led him along the sands, and Ignis felt them shift under his feet. The gentle sound of the ocean was to his right. Gladio walked between it and him. Suddenly Gladio placed his other hand over Ignis', and Ignis almost started, surprised at the contact. “Wait here,” Gladio said, his voice soft and low, close enough to Ignis' ear that he felt his face heat up. It did that all too often around Gladio lately.

The warmth of Gladio's touch left him. Ignis stood alone, feeling strangely adrift without his touch. He listened to the sound of footsteps kicking up sand, and the susurrus of each grain shifting against the one next to it, all at once. The footsteps drew away, down towards the water, and then returned, and Ignis found something being pressed into his hand.

He ran his fingers over it, feeling dozens of little ridges over a hard, curled surface. A shell. “What's this?” he asked, regardless.

“Put it up to your ear,” Gladio said, and his smile became audible as it curled the words. “You can hear the sea.”

Ignis gave a skeptical frown, but did as instructed. Gladio's hand found his again as he did, shifting the shell until the opening was against Ignis' ear. He listened to the passage of air inside the shell, and the strange, echoing quality of it that did, if you weren't well accustomed to the sea, sound vaguely reminiscent of it.

Ignis grinned at the ridiculousness of it all. Here they stood, beside the waves, the ocean itself beckoning them, and he was listening to air making a poor substitute. “I suppose it does sound a little like it,” he said.

Gladio laughed and slipped his arm around Ignis' waist. “Not really,” he admitted, “but we used to look for the best ones as kids and listen to them when we got home.”

Ignis lowered his arm, smiling softly down at the sands. “Have you always lived by the sea?”

“Yeah,” Gladio answered, and Ignis heard him breathe in deeply, the fingers at his waist tightening in a way that made Ignis' throat go dry. Gently, Gladio urged him to start walking again, his arm slung around him, keeping Ignis pressed close to his side. “Dad used to say the best treasures always come from the sea.”

Ignis found himself relaxing in Gladio's grip, the heat of his presence warming Ignis through. “Trade, or seashells?” he asked, his tone lilting and teasing.

Gladio laughed, shortly but genuinely. “Depends which you treasure most, I suppose,” he answered. “He wasn't wrong, though,” he added, his voice growing quiet. “It brought me you.”

Ignis felt a shiver run through him, that same pull he'd felt at the library, so similar to magic, calling him closer. He turned his head toward Gladio, trying to think of something to say that _wasn't_ about the sea bringing him to Ignis first. The sea, and a young prince's curiosity.

“Hey! Gladio,” a young voice called, and Ignis felt Gladio's heat draw back a little. “What are you—? Oh! Is this him?”

“Prompto,” Gladio said, and his voice had lost the honeyed warmth and intimacy of mere moments ago. It sounded like Gladio was trying to gather his wits after having nearly lost them. “Uh, Ignis?” he said, stumbling over the introduction. “This is Prompto. Prompto, Ignis.”

“Nice to meet you,” Prompto said, and Ignis found his free hand clasped in another, warmer one.

“Likewise,” Ignis answered, and tilted his head. There was a feeling to Prompto, an aura of familiarity. He could sense it on the edge of his awareness, rippling along the edge of his phantom fins. “Have we met?” he asked.

The hand dropped his quickly, and the answer came a little too fast. “Us? No, no, no. First time for sure, I never forget a face!”

It seemed that Prompto was lying, and Ignis frowned, turning his head again. Distantly, somewhere out beyond the rocks, he heard a splash, as if someone had just ducked below the surface, and it clicked. “Of course,” he said, shaking his head. “My mistake, you just remind me of someone.”

“Who?” Gladio asked, clearly eager to pick at any thread of recovered memory that might be useful.

Ignis forced himself to smile, but he could feel the draw of a presence out in the water, at the surface again, and definitely where he shouldn't be. “A friend of Noct's,” he said, and then turned to Gladio. “Could you give me a moment?”

He could feel Gladio's bewilderment as his hand retreated from around Ignis' waist, even though he answered, “Yeah, sure.” It became more obvious when he asked, “Is everything okay?” with concern woven through every syllable.

“Fine,” Ignis answered, a little too quickly for his own liking. “It's just,” he began, and shook his head. He couldn't very well say that he needed to go and speak to someone, and lying felt intolerably wrong. “We're near where you found me, aren't we?” he hazarded.

The mood shifted sharply as Gladio took a step back, and answered, as if he'd suddenly understood something, “Yeah, I guess we are.” There was the noise of Gladio's hesitation, an awkward shift of feet in the sand and the sound of fingers combing through hair. “I didn't realise,” he said, full of apology. “Take your time.”

Gladio's discomfort lanced through Ignis' chest, and he reached out for him, his fingers finding a solid chest covered in thin material, warm from Gladio's skin. From Gladio’s reaction, Ignis could only assume he'd made Gladio think bringing him here had been a bad idea. “There's just something I have to do,” he said, trying to offer reassurance. “I won't be long.”

Walking along the beach without Gladio's arm to guide him was harder than expected. The sand shifted, but the sound of lapping waves was constant, and gave him a marker to follow. It was joined by another marker once he was a few paces away from Gladio. Familiar magic echoed in his chest, reverberating, luring him onwards. Ignis followed it, his steps slow but steady, until he could no longer hear the sound of Prompto's voice. He made his way slowly down toward the water, until he could hear the lap of waves on the beach.

“Can they see us?” he asked.

“You, maybe,” came the answer, in a voice that was higher than Ignis was used to, and yet as recognisable as the magic that had called him here. “I'm behind some rocks.”

“Good,” Ignis said, with a slight nod, and then he eased himself down to sit on the sand. “You shouldn't be here, Noct,” he said once he was settled.

There was a derisive snort. It sounded as if Noct was a few feet away, right in the shallows, where the only things obscuring him from view were some rocks and the darkness. “You expect me to drag you to shore and then not check up on you?”

Ignis frowned at that. “Coming to the surface is what started this trouble,” he pointed out, even though he knew that, had the tables been turned, he'd have broken every Lucian law to ensure Noct was safe.

“I'm really sorry, Specky,” Noct said, and he sounded it, almost like a downtrodden and admonished child.

Ignis smiled at the nickname, and shook his head. “Hardly an appropriate nickname anymore,” he pointed out. He breathed in, feeling air fill his lungs, and the salt of the sea in his nose and mouth, fresh and homey, filling him with longing. “Don't be,” he said with a sigh. “Gladio is very kind.” He looked out to where he thought Noct was, to where the magic inherent to him seemed to emanate. “We saved these men, Noct, and they were worth that sacrifice.”

Noct was quiet for a moment, but Ignis could still feel him there, so he waited for his prince to gather his thoughts. “I just... that spell was supposed to give you happiness. I thought...” He trailed off, and Ignis waited again for him to finish. “I thought that was being with us.”

_With me_. Ignis heard the unspoken words in the statement, the reason behind all the hesitation. “So did I,” Ignis replied, his voice a whisper below the waves, “but as I told you, such spells can work in unexpected ways. Perhaps,” he ventured, finding the notion heating his face, “it is merely showing me some other way to be happy.”

“You like that human, don't you?” Noct said. Ignis sat up straighter and frowned, turning away from the water. “You do!” Noct said, amusement creeping into his voice. “You're going red.”

“Go _home_ , Noct,” he said, feeling strangely hot, even though the notion awas ridiculous. “If anyone tells your father you were up here, there'll be trouble, and I'm not there to bail you out this time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Noct said, dismissing the instruction as he’d been told to tidy his hollow, and held all the same seriousness. “I just wanna know,” he said, “are you happy? Do you think you could be?”

Ignis turned that question over in his mind, playing back the memories of the last few days. The feel of cotton against his skin, the scent of sea in the air, the taste of grilled fish and carrots and asparagus, and the warmth of Gladio's arm around him. “It's new,” he said finally, “so much of it is new, and we have nothing like it for me to even begin to describe it to you. But I wouldn't change any of the decisions I've made,” he decided. “I suppose that would be the first step toward happiness, yes, however much I may miss you.”

There was silence in response, and an aching loss washed over Ignis, breaking only when Noct said, “I miss you too.”

Ignis smiled despite the ache that settled in his chest and his throat. “Now go home where you belong,” he said, “and stop worrying about me.”

There was a huff of amusement from Noct. “Only if you do the same,” he said.

“I'll try,” he said, without meaning it. “Goodbye, Noct.”

“Goodbye, Specky,” Noct answered.

Ignis listened to the splash of a tail through water as Noct slipped below the surface. He pictured it in his mind. Those blue eyes and that blue tail came to his memory so easily that it made his chest hurt and his eyes sting. He could feel Noct's magic retreating as he left, ebbing away like the tide, and Ignis lingered on the sands until he couldn't feel it anymore, and the water lapped at his shoes.

“Hey,” a voice said, gentle and warm, pulling Ignis from his reverie.

Starting, he turned toward it, then moved to get up, his limbs uncoordinated and stiff from having been sat so long. “I didn't hear you approach,” he said, apologising even as Gladio's hand found his arm and helped him to his feet.

“Don't worry about it. Are you okay?” Gladio asked, once Ignis was steady on his feet, though his hand didn't leave Ignis’ arm, his touch gentle and sure.

“I'm fine,” Ignis answered.

There was the sound of cloth shifting, and Gladio pressed a square of material into Ignis' hand. “Here,” he said.

Ignis looked down at it even though he couldn't see. “What is it?” he asked.

“A handkerchief,” Gladio answered.

“I don't need—” Ignis began, but an arm went around him, cutting him off, and tugged him in against Gladio's chest.

“Ignis,” Gladio said, his voice gentle, “I can see you're crying. You don't have to pretend with me.”

Ignis swallowed and let Gladio hold him. His face was wet, he realised, and it wasn't with seaspray, but in Gladio's arms the dull ache of Noct’s absence seemed to fade, replaced by degrees with a new kind of warmth.


	5. Chapter Five: Poetry by Firelight

The crackle of burning logs made the room feel less expansive. Ignis could feel the heat from the fire on his face, turning his head this way and that, feeling the temperature shift across his cheeks, kissed by the fire's heat in one turn, and the cooler air of the library in the next. Gladio's footsteps were light across the hard floor as he approached, and then he sank onto the seat next to Ignis, so close their thighs brushed. The dip of Gladio's weight on the cushion tipped Ignis sideways, toward Gladio, and he fought to right himself with a smile.

Gladio's arm slipped around his shoulders, and Ignis felt the touch ripple through his skin, pleasant and comforting. “Sorry,” Gladio said, shifting his weight a little so Ignis could sit up straight once more, but when he settled back down, more slowly, their legs still touched. “It's a bit small for two,” he explained. “There's a bigger one further back, or I could sit on the floor?” 

Ignis only shook his head. “It's fine.” He settled into the small sofa, enjoying the radiating warmth of the fire and the heat of Gladio's presence. The arm retreated from around him, and for a second, Ignis missed it. Then Gladio's shoulder nudged up against his and stayed there, pressed in close, and with a smile, Ignis gave in to the temptation to lean against it. “What did you choose to read?” he asked.

“It's a collection of poems,” Gladio said, with an unusual trace of nerves in his tone. “Didn't wanna force you to listen to me reading something long if you think I'm flat.”

Ignis turned his face away from Gladio at the confession, his lips drawing into a smile. “You sound lovely when speaking. I don't expect you'll fail to do a book justice.”

There was a stillness in the air that followed, and Ignis got the distinct impression he was being watched. He kept his face turned away, and hoped Gladio would attribute the glow in his cheeks to the heat of the fire. After a tense few seconds in which Ignis could almost count his heartbeats, he heard Gladio open the book, and the rustle of leather and paper as he leafed through pages to find one to his preference. Then Gladio cleared his throat and began to read.

“When we two parted  
In silence and tears,  
Half broken-hearted  
To sever for years,  
Pale grew thy cheek and cold,  
Colder thy kiss;  
Truly that hour foretold  
Sorrow to this.

The dew of the morning  
Sunk chill on my brow—  
It felt like the warning  
Of what I feel now.  
Thy vows are all broken,  
And light is thy fame;  
I hear thy name spoken,  
And share in its shame.

They name thee before me,  
A knell to mine ear;  
A shudder comes o’er me—  
Why wert thou so dear?  
They know not I knew thee,  
Who knew thee too well—  
Long, long shall I rue thee,  
Too deeply to tell.

In secret we met—  
In silence I grieve,  
That thy heart could forget,  
Thy spirit deceive.  
If I should meet thee  
After long years,  
How should I greet thee?—  
With silence and tears.”

Ignis listened to Gladio recite the last lines and drew in a shaky breath. The warmth of the fire was still there, but the room seemed cold somehow, pricking across his skin. “You read that beautifully,” he said, his voice soft in the near silence.

He heard Gladio inhale too, before he breathed out slowly through his nose. “Byron's one of my favourites,” he said.

Ignis found a question at the edge of his voice and realised he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer, but he also couldn't bear not knowing. “Have you ever been left by a lover like that?” he asked, and then bit his lip, unsure what answer he'd prefer.

Gladio laughed, though the sound was awkward, and brief, and self conscious. “No,” he answered, and Ignis felt a lessening of the weight he hadn't been aware was pressing on his heart. “It's just the idea of it, you know? Loving someone like that, and watching them walk away because...” His shoulder shifted with a shrug, and the movement tipped Ignis further in against him. “...you can't be together, or they're not as in love as you are? It really gets me.”

“I think I understand,” Ignis said, tilting his head so it rested against the back of the sofa.

“Have you ever been in love?” Gladio asked, and Ignis felt as if every ounce of the man's attention was on him. He daren't move for it, even though it made his chest tight and his stomach flip.

“No,” he answered in a whisper. “Though I'd like to be, one day.”

“You don't think it's scary for someone to have the power to hurt you that way?” Gladio asked. Ignis felt him shift, so slightly, and it made his skin tingle and his breath catch.

“Yes, it is,” he admitted, feeling something in the air as tangible as magic. It felt as if his fins were curling, as if his scales were flashing with their own magical signals in response. “But to be able to trust someone to hold such power would be worth the risk.”

The weight next to him shifted again, and Ignis listened to his own thundering heart for a little too long. “Maybe you will find someone you can trust like that,” Gladio said, mere inches from Ignis' ear.

Ignis lifted his head slowly, the indescribable magic prickling all along his senses and his skin, making him feel breathless and giddy, like he'd raced to the ocean floor and back again too quickly. “Such trust has to be earned, and learned,” he said. The place where Gladio's leg touched his seemed to be aflame, and Ignis didn't want to retreat. “Perhaps meeting someone who wants to earn it will be enough for now?” he asked, finding the words coming hesitant and quiet.

“It's a start,” Gladio said. Fingertips brushed against Ignis' hand, finding his palm before enclosing it in a warm and gentle grip.

Ignis swallowed, dizzy with the throb of magic in the air—the magic coming from Gladio. It stole his breath away, and he squeezed the hand that held his own. “You've already been so kind,” he murmured. “I wouldn't wish to be taking advantage.”

“You're not,” Gladio insisted, his hand squeezing in return.

“You know so little about me,” he said. How could he talk of trust earned and learned when Gladio didn't even know the truth of what he was? He _did_ want to trust Gladio; he just didn't know if he could.

“I know you're proud,” Gladio said, “and stubborn.” Ignis' breath caught as a thumb grazed over his cheek, not over the scars he'd learned were there, but over the unblemished cheek below a sightless eye. “And whatever you've lost isn't a burden I want you to bear alone.”

Ignis felt his eyes sting again at the statement, and he turned his cheek into Gladio's fingers, feeling them cup his face and then slowly sink into his hair, leaving a thumb to brush over the crest of his cheekbone. “It's not what I've lost,” he said quietly, “it's that even if I found a way back, I'm no longer sure I'd want to take it.”

“Iggy,” Gladio said, his fingers sinking into the soft hair at the nape of Ignis' neck, “no matter what happens, I promise you'll always have a place here.”

Ignis felt the words settle in his chest, encircling his heart and snaring it with its temptations. “Thank you,” he said.

“You're welcome.” The fingers lingered on his cheek and in his hair, and then they gave one final brush, as if to kiss farewell before Gladio's hand withdrew. “I guess it's later than I thought,” he said, settling back into the seat beside Ignis. “Might not have time to get through many more.”

“Yes,” Ignis agreed, feeling the pull of magic recede, even though the hand that held his own didn't. “Read the others for me tomorrow? If you would?”

Gladio gave a short huff, and Ignis felt his hand pulled upward until something soft pressed against his knuckles. Coarse hair tickled his fingers and the back of his hand, and Ignis held his breath as Gladio answered, “Sure thing.”

*****

The morning sun no longer lit up Ignis' world, but there was a discernible difference this morning. It wasn't just the brightness of the sun, the warmth of it laying gentle lips on Ignis' skin in aching reminder of Gladio's mouth against his knuckles. There was something else. Ignis compared it to magic in his head, but the more he thought on it, the less accurate that seemed. It wasn't magic, wasn't a spell woven in the air that settled over his mind. It was something altogether more comfortable, and comforting. It was like song. It was his heart being buoyed by the music of another after hearing it for the first time. The beat of his heart in his chest tapped out a rhythm that belonged to a melody he'd only just realised he was hearing.

They'd finished Lord Byron's poems, and Gladio had moved on to Shakespeare's plays. He loved the comedies, he'd said, and his smile twisted his voice as he recited passages for Ignis, delighting in the smile he won in return, and sharing in the laughter it elicited.

His clothes had arrived that morning, wrapped in thin paper and handled with care, and Ignis had taken longer to get dressed as he'd picked his way through the selection available. He'd chosen a cotton shirt, the tailor having thoughtfully marked a stitch in the back of the collar so Ignis could distinguish the colours by touch. It was a vibrant purple, according to the mark, and the trousers were black, sharp lines at the front sitting smoothly against Ignis' skin. They were soft and sensuous to wear, hugging his hips and caressing his thighs as he moved. The shirt draped across his shoulders like a friendly arm, but Ignis left the top buttons unfastened, finding the feeling of having something so close around his neck to be uncomfortable.

There was a jacket, too, lined with what he recognised to be silk, and Ignis drew it up his arms and over his shoulders, taking in the textures of it all. He'd assumed, when he'd first seen humans, that they were wore their wealth all the time, but one day in a human body had taught him a susceptibility to cold he'd never known before. Still, human clothes served a decorative purpose as well as a functional, and the feeling for Ignis, dressed for the first time in clothes that were fitted to him, was the same as when he’d donned pearls and silks for royal functions. He took the time to comb his hair, sweeping the strands back from his face before he ventured out to find Gladio.

Gladio was not hard to find. The sound of his voice echoed through marbled halls as Ignis approached. He was calling words of encouragement to someone, and there was a clang of metallic objects striking one another. Ignis was suddenly taken by how normal all these things were beginning to seem.

He opened a door, and the sound of metal bashing against metal grew louder. It continued for a few seconds after he opened the door, and then he asked, “Gladio?”

There was one final collision of metal on metal, and then a thud, and a yelp. Gladio's voice erupted with a pained cry.

“Are you all right?” Ignis asked.

At the same time another voice asked, “Are you okay, sir?”

“Fine!” Gladio replied, a little loudly. “I'm fine,” he repeated, followed by a hiss. “Just put it down on my foot, I'm fine.” This was followed by the slightly stilted sound of footsteps moving toward Ignis, one foot definitely being used more lightly than the other. “You look,” Gladio began, and then trailed off into silence, leaving Ignis hanging on the end of the sentence.

“Do I pass muster?” he asked, and then a thought occurred to him. He flew his fingers over the buttons of his shirt. “Have I got the buttons right?”

“Yeah, you—” Gladio said quickly, only to trail off again. “You got them right, you—” Ignis got the impression he was being taken in, and pored over. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” Ignis said, turning his face up, toward where he knew Gladio's would be. “For the clothes as well as the compliment.”

“It's nothing,” Gladio replied. Ignis heard another shuffling footstep as Gladio came a little nearer.

“You really are limping quite badly, aren’t you?” he said, concern coming through his voice, just as he knew it would show on his face. “You should get it looked at.”

Gladio made a noise that sounded like he wanted to argue, but knew he shouldn't. “I promised Prompto I'd head to the markets with him today,” he said with a tinge of regret.

“Were you taking him for something in particular, or is it just for the company?” Ignis asked, his head tilting ever so slightly. His unspoken offer to go with Prompto lay just below the surface of the question. He'd never been to a market before, and the opportunity sounded enticing. It would be full of food, and wares, things new to Ignis that he could never admit were new without having to fall back on the use of _amnesia_ as explanation.

Gladio seemed to consider his options. “He just likes having someone to chatter at. You don't have to go with him if you don't want,” he said, clearly operating under the belief that Ignis was offering out of kindness alone.

“Nonsense,” Ignis replied. “It sounds like he'll be an ideal guide, and you can rest that foot.”

*****

Gladio, it turned out, had not been exaggerating when he said Prompto liked having someone to chatter at. Ignis found himself guided to the soundtrack of a constant litany of descriptions, first to one market stall, and then another. Ignis paused at a stall that smelled thoroughly intoxicating, taking a deep breath of all the aromas tantalising his nostrils and tongue. There were so many, and while they melded into a single smell that almost had a physical presence, with concentration Ignis could pick out each individual note in the symphony.

Nutmeg, cumin, fennel. Each was named for him as he browsed the spices on display, letting his nose guide him. Scents didn't travel like this in the oceans, they didn't mix and merge to tempt the taste buds, and merfolk had nothing, _nothing_ , that smelled like thyme, or paprika, or lemongrass.

“Enjoying yourself there?” Prompto asked, his boundless enthusiasm wound in for Ignis' sake, but still present below the surface. He still felt familiar to Ignis, there was still that lingering sense that reminded him of Noct, as if something about the boy was tickling at the edge of Ignis' perception.

Ignis adjusted his hand around Prompto's arm and answered, “Immensely.”

“Thought I was gonna lose you in the spice stall,” Prompto said, cheerful and teasing, but he stayed fixed to Ignis' side, as attentive as Gladio himself. Ignis couldn't help but wonder if Prompto had been told to keep an eye on him.

Ignis turned his face up to the sky, feeling the warming rays of the sun on his cheeks as it began to dip toward the horizon. “I suppose you don't appreciate how precious your senses are until you lose one,” he said.

“Yeah,” Prompto said, and Ignis felt the hesitation in the line of his shoulders as he shifted his arm in Ignis' grip. “You're doing okay, though, right? Gladio's taking good care of you?”

“He's been very hospitable,” Ignis answered. There was something off about the line of questioning, and he wondered where Prompto was taking it, and why.

“Good! That's good,” Prompto said. “So you're, like, happy, right?”

Ignis stopped, letting go of Prompto's arm. He heard Prompto walk on, not expecting Ignis to let go, and then he stopped and turned to look at him. “Prompto,” Ignis said, using the same tone he used when he was about to start interrogating Noct about the dogfish pup found in his rooms. “What were you doing down on the beach that night?”

“What night?” Prompto asked, his voice hurried, the words betraying an awkward attempt to keep from telling a lie before the speaker was ready.

Ignis did his best to set his face into stern disapproval, though he worried the effect might be lost if he couldn't make eye contact. “You know which night,” he said.

Prompto grumbled and huffed, as if trying to squirm out of the line of questioning, before he surrendered with a groan. “He told me not to say anything.” Ignis got the distinct impression he was being sulked at; it was a familiar feeling. “He wasn't kidding about you.”

Ignis let his shoulders drop. “I don't believe I need to impress upon you the importance of your silence?”

“Hey,” Prompto said, his ebullient energy returning now he'd had the confession forced from him. “My lips are sealed.”

Ignis gave a defeated sigh. Noctis had been consorting with a human, despite all the trouble he had already caused. “Do you see him often?” he asked, dreading the possibility that the answer might be yes.

Prompto made a small noise that Ignis knew better than to take for a no, although it certainly wasn't a clear cut yes, either. “Not so much now,” he said. “I know you and he are the ones who rescued us,” he said, and his voice fell to a whisper. “He just wants me to make sure you're safe.” There was the sound of Prompto reaching up, his clothes rustling, and then Ignis felt the wash of Noct's magic surge upward. “He gave me this,” Prompto said.

“Put it back on,” Ignis said. “I know what that is.” Noct's charm, tied to Noct, and Noct's life, and a way for merfolk to repay a debt. “Did he explain it to you?”

The swell of magic dissipated as the charm came to rest against Prompto's breast once more, and Ignis breathed a little easier, but he knew it wasn't really gone. Small wonder Prompto had seemed so familiar; Ignis had been sensing Noct's connection to this boy. “He just said it's magical,” Prompto said, and Ignis could just picture him shrugging.

He pursed his lips. “Guard it with your life. Were that to fall into the wrong hands, Noct would be in grave danger. Merfolk do not give up our charms easily for that very reason.” Of course, in the right hands, it was protection, and an increase of their power, but Ignis certainly wasn't about to advertise that fact.

“Will do,” Prompto said, as if Ignis hadn't just attempted to impress upon him the mortal risk Noct had taken by handing it over. “And Specky?” Ignis scowled at the nickname. Clearly Noct had done quite a bit of talking while Ignis was incapacitated if he’d managed to pass along that little tidbit. “You should tell Gladio you like him.”

Ignis huffed at the meddling in his personal life, especially since he wasn't sure if this was coming from Noct or Prompto. Perhaps it didn't really matter if they were forming a unified front. “He knows,” Ignis said, thinking of lips kissing his knuckles, and a thigh pressed against his on a sofa that was much too small for two grown men.

“No, I mean,” Prompto pressed, “you should _tell_ him.”

“I don't require your interference,” Ignis said, a little more sharply than he'd intended. “Or Noct's,” he added, trying to soften the blow.

Silence bloomed and flourished in the time it took Prompto to reply. “He hasn't told you, has he?”

Ignis felt something cold and unpleasant slough over his insides at the way Prompto said it, as if there was something big and important that Ignis was missing. “Told me what?”

The flourishing silence budded, and grew flowers, and Ignis found his heart beating an uncomfortable staccato as he waited for the answer.

“Gladio's getting married, Ignis,” Prompto said. “To Princess Garnet.”


	6. Chapter Six: It Takes Time

_“Gladio's getting married, Ignis. To Princess Garnet.”_

The spot on Ignis' knuckles where Gladio had placed his lips had burned all day, but unpleasantly so. He could feel the lips there, the soft press of them against his skin, warm and gentle, and Gladio's close trimmed beard grazing the back of his fingers. It felt as if a lie had been placed on his skin, and Ignis couldn't get it to wash away.

He'd returned to the castle with Prompto, his mind roiling with the news, and was informed that Master Gladio was in his chambers if Ignis wished to see him.

Ignis didn't. He wasn't sure why the news of Gladio's engagement had upset him so, why it felt like such a betrayal, but it did. Every time he went over their conversation from that night, he reminded himself that Gladio had given no indication he wished to be someone Ignis could fall in love with, and Ignis, in truth, had not outright told Gladio he hoped for the same. They could have been speaking in general terms, both of them.

Still, the hand at his cheek and lips at his knuckles burned his skin. All the times Gladio had tugged him in close as he read, with one arm around Ignis and one hand on his book, all the times he had felt Gladio's gaze on him as surely as he felt the wind—had he been reading things into them that weren't there, or was he merely a passing distraction for a man with a fiancée awaiting him? Was Gladio playing him false, or had Ignis, without his vision to see the intent in the other's eyes, wrongly interpreted his intentions?

He lingered in his rooms instead of venturing down to the library for his nightly ritual with Gladio. Ignis didn't think he could bear the heat of the other man's skin against his own, so intimate and familiar, so comfortable and comforting, when he could no longer be sure it was intended the way he'd thought, or wished. Gladio's reading was never perfect. Sometimes he stopped in the wrong places, or stressed the wrong syllable in a verse, but his voice was deep and harmonious, and lulled Ignis' mind to quiet with its steady familiarity.

He'd taken dinner in his rooms, so when a knock came at the door, he called, “Come in,” without giving it a second thought. He expected a serving girl or young page to come remove his spent crockery and cutlery.

What he got instead, once the door had opened and a couple of quietly hesitant footsteps had announced the arrival of their owner, was Gladio asking him, “Are you feeling okay?”

Ignis felt his throat seize, and he turned away from the sound of Gladio's voice. “I'm fine,” he said.

“The servants said you've been in here since you came back with Prompto,” Gladio pressed, coming closer, until his hand landed on Ignis' shoulder. “You sure?” he asked. “Did something happen?”

Ignis couldn't help himself; he flinched from Gladio's touch, jerking his shoulder away from the heat of Gladio's hand.

“Iggy,” Gladio said, so much concern and question in his voice that it stung. His hand retreated. “Talk to me?” he pleaded.

“You never said...” Ignis replied, his words clipped, but calm. When the only response was a baffled silence, he elaborated, “You never said you were betrothed.”

“That's what this is about?” Gladio asked, and Ignis wasn't sure if the sound of his voice was a relief, or just further confusion.

Ignis shook his head, feeling ridiculous for feeling this way about it, and yet unable to help himself. “I know it's none of my business,” he said, holding back to the strain in his voice through willpower alone, “but I thought...” _I thought there was a chance_ he finished, in the miserable privacy of his own head, and left the thought there, never to be voiced.

Gladio sighed, and crouched down on the floor beside Ignis. Ignis tried to picture it, Gladio's bulk kneeling beside him, and he wondered if he'd dropped to one knee, or two. “It's an arranged marriage, Iggy,” he admitted. “I've never even met her.” Ignis turned his face toward the sound of Gladio's voice, by his side. If Gladio spoke the truth, then emotion at least had no part in the circumstances. “I should have told you,” Gladio added, and his arm came to rest on the back of Ignis' chair.

Ignis sighed, letting his head drop. He wished Gladio had told him, but what right did he have to expect that? Gladio was the son of a duke, the next highest rank below a prince. Of course he was destined for some politically advantageous marriage in which he could father politically advantageous offspring. “It isn't as though it has anything to do with me,” he apologised. “I'm sorry for reacting this way.”

“It does have something to do with you, Iggy,” Gladio said, and warm, calloused fingers tucked under Ignis' chin, lifting his face. “I don't want to marry her.”

Ignis felt his lips part as he tried to find something to say, and failed. His heart was beginning to thunder in his chest, and his breath caught as Gladio's thumb brushed slowly over his bottom lip. “Since talking to you,” Gladio said, his voice low and steady, weaving into Ignis' ears and chest like magic, “I realised I want the same thing. I want to find someone I can fall in love with so hard that losing them would destroy me. I want to find someone I can learn to trust with that kind of power over me, and then I want to marry them.”

Ignis fought to answer, every fibre of his being determined to freeze, like some small animal caught in the sights of a predator. He felt as if he'd been shocked by an eel, his every muscle taken out of his own control. “Such people are rare. Finding one may be difficult.”

“I think I already have,” Gladio replied, his voice growing lower, and closer. His thumb tracked over Ignis' lip again, to the corner of his mouth, where it stayed. “It takes time to fall in love. You have to start by finding someone you want to get to know, someone you like and care about. I've found someone like that for sure.”

Hope blossomed, delicate, and soft, and so fragile, and in that instant, the world seemed precious and beautiful. “Perhaps they feel the same,” Ignis said, trying not to lean into the hand that drew over his cheek, cupping it softly, and the fingers teasing into his hair.

“I hope so,” Gladio said, and Ignis felt the words brush against his skin. “I'm going to kiss you now, if that's all right?”

“It is,” Ignis said.

Gladio's lips were as soft and warm against his own, and achingly gentle as Gladio kissed him with the same sweet longing he'd placed upon Ignis' knuckles. Ignis found his breath stilled in his chest as the heat of Gladio's mouth swept over his other senses, eclipsing them, and then withdrew, leaving Ignis tingling all over.

A shiver ran through Ignis, his hair standing on end, and then he inhaled through his nose and pressed forward, finding Gladio's mouth again.


	7. Chapter Seven: Farewell

Each night Ignis returned to his bed alone with the lingering memory of Gladio's lips, as if they were still kissing him. Gladio's fingers at his cheek, in his hair, and his strength as he pulled Ignis atop himself brought vivid dreams to Ignis' sleeping mind of pleasures he had never known. But Gladio's touch had given him a taste.

“This doesn't change that you're betrothed,” Ignis made himself say, as he was pushed into the cushions, his legs tangled with Gladio's. Gladio's mouth had descended from his lips to sow affection down the line of Ignis' throat, lighting his skin aflame and making his heart dance with each press of his mouth.

“It might,” Gladio replied, mouthing another kiss over Ignis' collarbone, lips pressed so close to Ignis' charm that he felt the shock of it run straight up his spine. No one else had ever touched it before, and the brush of Gladio's cheek against it seemed to travel straight to Ignis' soul.

Ignis arched with the sensation, feeling dizzy as Gladio pulled away again and it subsided, but left its echoes. “Gladio,” he whispered, and pushed at the man's shoulder. The heat inside him was beautiful, but he could feel himself at risk of surrendering to something he might come to regret. If Gladio were to brush his charm again, Ignis wasn't sure he'd have it in him to keep his mind. It felt so _right_ for him to touch it, and yet Gladio wouldn't know what he was doing, wouldn't know the significance of it.

That felt wrong, and Ignis pushed at his shoulder a little harder, trying to sit himself up, to squeeze a little more space between the two of them. Gladio drew back, allowing Ignis the room to move. “We need to talk,” Ignis said. “There are futures beyond our own resting on what we do now, and there is still so much we don't know about each other.”

Gladio gave a sigh, but ran his hand up the outside of Ignis' thigh. The back of his fingers brushed over Ignis' cheek in a way that was clearly meant to be soothing. “So ask me anything you want to know,” he said, “and tell me anything you want to tell me.”

Ignis frowned, but turned his cheek toward Gladio's hand. “There are some things I don't know if I can say,” he said.

“So tell me the things you can,” Gladio replied. He turned his hand against Ignis' cheek, cupping it gently and stroking his thumb over the corner of Ignis' mouth. “I'm not going anywhere, Ignis.”

“Except to marry a princess,” Ignis pointed out.

Gladio drew his hand back, and in an instant Ignis found he missed his touch. “Not yet,” he said, “maybe not at all.” Ignis lifted his head, his blind eyes trying to fix on Gladio's face based on the sound of his voice alone. “I started writing to her,” he admitted, “after, you know.”

The way words seemed to fail him brought a small chuckle up Ignis' throat. _After, you know._ After they'd kissed. After Gladio had introduced Ignis to his lips, unlocking a wealth of longing and desire within him. He smiled sadly. “Is she someone you could learn to trust and love?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Gladio answered, non-committal and unconcerned. “She's a nice girl,” he added, “but she's not you.” Gladio’s hand gently clasped his own. “I wake up in the morning and I can't wait to see you,” he said. “The nights we spend here, just talking about poetry and plays, have been more fun than I've had since I was a kid.

“I like you, Iggy,” Gladio said emphatically. “I want to take you out to restaurants, and watch you lose yourself in an opera. I want...” Gladio hesitated, his voice falling lower as he pushed on. “I _really_ want to take you to bed and kiss you until sunrise.” Ignis felt his toes curl at the implications, unsure how to tell Gladio he already did that in Ignis' dreams. “So whatever it is you can't say,” he finished, “is going to have to be pretty big to change that.”

Ignis frowned at Gladio's confidence. “I'm half fish” was, in his view, rather large, and he doubted Gladio would consider it no big concern. They weren't even the same species. “I feel the same way,” he admitted, “and I want to tell you.” In a place such as this, however, where Ignis couldn't see all the ears that might be listening, it would be inordinately dangerous, as well as leave him vulnerable to Gladio's reaction.

“You can,” Gladio promised, clasping Ignis' hand in both of his own. “When you're ready. I can wait.”

Ignis fought with himself, forcing the words to come up his throat. “Take me out on the water,” he said, the words tumbling out in a hurry, “where no one can see or hear us. I'll tell you there.”

It was quiet for a moment as Gladio took in the request, and doubtless had some confused questions of his own to swallow down, but then Gladio tugged Ignis’ hand up and pressed a kiss to his fingers. “Okay,” Gladio said, “I'll take you.”

*****

Two days later, Gladio kept his promise, and Ignis steadied himself on Gladio's arm as he stepped into the rowboat Gladio owned.

“You sure you've got everything?” Prompto asked, tucking a basket into the boat. Ignis could feel the scrape of it against the wood as it slid under the seat, reverberating through his feet.

“I'm sure Weskham did us proud,” Ignis answered. It had been Gladio's idea to ask the castle's chef to prepare something for them. Ignis suspected it was his way of making it seem like one of their intimate evenings to Ignis, but like a fishing trip to the rest of the servants. Prompto, however, was not so easily fooled.

The boat tipped and swayed on the water in a way that set Ignis' nerves on edge. He couldn't see to anticipate each wave and bob of the boat, and he didn't like the sensation. But then Gladio's heavy feet thudded on the wood, and Ignis relaxed; he was in safe hands for now, at least.

“Don't wait up,” Gladio said, speaking over Ignis' head toward Prompto. There was a grin in his tone; Ignis could almost picture the flash of teeth that accompanied it.

“Wasn't gonna, big guy,” Prompto retorted.

The boat rocked sharply as Gladio found his seat, and Ignis grabbed the wooden sides, holding himself as steady as he could. A minute later, the rope that anchored the boat to the pier dropped with a dull, multi-layered slap behind Gladio. There was the scrape of oars shifting, and a splash as they settled into the water.

“Be good!” Prompto called, as Gladio found a rhythm with the oars that left Prompto's voice, and the sound of water lapping at the shore, falling away behind them. “Don't rock the boat too much!”

“What on earth does he think we're going to do?” Ignis asked, forcing himself to settle again. The boat rocked gently, but it was now a steady, predictable movement as Gladio propelled them forward, out to the open water, and while Ignis didn't like it much, it was at least less jarring than being buffeted by unseen waves.

He was used to cutting through the water, but he’d never been subject to the whims of the surface.

“I can think of a couple of things,” Gladio answered, amusement painting his voice in bright tones.

“You're incorrigible,” Ignis replied, as tantalising as the notion was. 

Gladio laughed softly at the reply. Ignis drank the noise in, trying to draw an image of Gladio in his head. He wondered how Gladio looked, seated opposite him. Powerful arms drawing on the oars in the water, his body leaning in and out of the motion as he pulled them out to sea with his strength. Ignis wished he could see it; he'd felt those muscles under his fingers, but he'd only seen them once, and already the memory was fading.

Gladio's eyes, however—those had stuck. Every time he laughed, Ignis could picture the light dancing in warm amber.

“Don't take us too far out,” Ignis said. “Make sure we can still see the shore.”

He couldn't be certain how close they might come to Lucian waters. He'd be safe on the surface, for the Lucian border didn't extend beyond the surface, but still, he'd prefer not to draw attention. Save Noct, no one knew—at least, he hoped no one knew—of his current predicament, and it wouldn't do to raise questions, such as how he'd ended up with legs in place of his tail, if any curious guards came to investigate the magical signature of a banished merman.

“Can do,” Gladio answered. “I'm gonna take you to an old fishing spot of mine. It should be quiet.”

Ignis smiled at that, and gave a nod. “Thank you for indulging me at all.”

“Whatever it takes for you to feel like you can talk to me, Iggy,” Gladio said, “I'm willing to do.”

“I already do feel that way,” Ignis murmured. “But this?” He shook his head. “Well, I expect you'll understand when I tell you.”

“Are you in trouble?” Gladio asked. His voice was low, concerned, but not judgemental.

Ignis flashed a wan smile in Gladio's direction, hoping it found its mark. “Of a fashion. Less myself, more one for whom I was responsible.”

There was silence but for the creak of oars pulling from the water, then slipping back under the waves. “Noct?” Gladio asked eventually.

Ignis listened to the call of gulls and the lapping of waves, holding the salty aroma of sea air in his lungs. Even the unnatural feeling of being above the waves had a familiar rhythm of wash and pull to it. It wasn't like being home, but it was a reminder of all the things Ignis missed. “Yes,” he confirmed.

“Who was he?” Gladio asked, after another few steady strokes of the oars through the water. It didn't sound like he was exerting himself to speak and row at the same time, but more as if he was allowing Ignis space to think.

“My prince,” Ignis replied, his voice little more than the whisper of wind over waves.

The sound of rowing faltered, and then resumed. Ignis counted two strokes before Gladio repeated, simply, “Prince?”

“Not one of a kingdom you will know,” Ignis said with a faint smile. Gladio had certainly crossed over Lucian waters, but he wouldn't have been aware of it. “I was raised as his brother,” he offered, “and in exchange, I taught and guided him as if he were mine.” Ignis bit his lip and bowed his head, searching for words to tell the painful truth. “When he got in trouble, I often covered for him. This time it came at my own expense.”

The sound of rowing slowed, but didn't yet still. “What happened?” Gladio asked, patient yet clearly curious.

“He went somewhere he shouldn't,” Ignis answered, tilting his head back so he could feel the sun on his face. It tempered the chill wind that rushed up off the water. “I failed to stop him, and when he broke one of our laws, I helped. But someone saw us, and when we returned, there were consequences. We were separated, and I was banished.”

Ignis felt the boat give a small twist in the water as Gladio drew it to a halt and pulled the oars in. “We're here,” he said. Ignis inhaled deeply, finding his nerves rising with each heartbeat. He was so close to telling Gladio the truth of what he was. How could he be sure Gladio wouldn't think him mad—or worse, think him some murderous siren trying to lure him to a watery death? “So is that the secret?” Gladio asked. “What you did?”

Ignis gave a sad, helpless laugh. “If only my secret were so insignificant,” he murmured. “We saved the lives of two men our kind considers enemies. That was our crime—a crime subject to the gravest of consequences. I couldn't allow them to punish Noct, or for Noct's part in it to be made public, so I painted myself as the architect of events and bore the brunt of the punishment myself.”

“So you were banished,” Gladio said, slotting the pieces together.

“Banishment was a mercy compared to the prescribed punishment,” Ignis said.

“And that's why you can't go back,” Gladio said.

Ignis only gave a nod of confirmation. His hands shook, but not because of his nerves. Unease crept up his spine with oily fingers. He could sense danger in the fins he no longer bore, rippling there like a warning, like the bright colours of some venomous creature warning you to back away carefully.

Lifting his head, he looked out to sea, knowing as surely as he knew his own toes that the vastness of the ocean was in that direction, because so was the source of the magic he felt. “Are we still in sight of the shore?” he demanded.

Gladio didn't respond with the same urgency, clearly unaware of the threat building on the horizon. He heard Gladio shift to check, and then his confusion as he answered, “Yeah, just about. Do you wanna go further out?”

“No,” Ignis answered quickly, “take us closer. _Now_.”

Gladio didn't comply immediately. Instead, Ignis felt the warmth of Gladio’s hand on his own, and the heat of Gladio’s skin as he leaned closer. “Iggy, are you okay?”

Ignis shook his head, trying to instil in Gladio the sense of urgency he felt himself. “No,” he said. “Gladio, please?”

“All right,” Gladio said, but he pulled away too slowly. The sound of the oars extending was like torture.

“It's too late,” Ignis said despairingly as the oars dipped into the water. Gladio give a surprised grunt, likely as the oars refused to move. Ignis knew now the source of the magic. It had been too late for Gladio the moment Ignis felt his approach. “He's come back for you.”

“Iggy, what's going on?” Gladio asked, voice urgent.

Ignis found his hand captured by Gladio's, and despair washed over him. He'd been so concerned Gladio would reject him, would think him a liar or a trickster, so he'd asked him out to sea where, at the very least, Ignis could give up on whatever game the spell was playing and return to the waters he'd once called home, cold and uninviting as they now felt. Instead, the act of asking Gladio out here had placed him at risk. “I'm sorry, Gladio,” he said. “I didn't think he'd come to find you.”

“Who?” Gladio pressed. “Iggy, please?”

“Ardyn,” Ignis said. “His name is Ardyn.”

_“Such an astute young thing,” _came a voice, low and undulating, emitting from everywhere at once. It wrapped around them like a loving caress, as if the words themselves were stroking Ignis' face, and he recoiled from it. _“Even without your eyes, you're perceptive.”___

__“You gave him that spell,” Ignis said, out towards the open water, knowing Ardyn could hear him. His magic was swarming, like flies buzzing in a pall over the water, tickling Ignis' skin. All at once, Ignis understood what he had to do._ _

__“ _I did,”_ came the reply, and there was a joy to it that turned his stomach. “ _I also made the storm that brought the two of you together, and as you so competently surmised, I have come to claim my toll.”__ _

__Opposite him in the boat, Ignis could sense Gladio trying and failing to keep up with events. “Iggy, what the hell is going on?”_ _

__Ignis stroked Gladio's hand. The skin was cold, lacking his usual warm, confident strength. “Listen to me very carefully, Gladio,” Ignis said, squeezing his hand, hoping he could keep him focused that way. “You saved my life the day you found me on that beach. You showed me joys and gave me hopes I'd never known.”_ _

__“Ignis?” Gladio's voice was soft, and confused, and concerned, and Ignis wanted nothing more than to hold him and never let him go._ _

__He gave in to that urge, circling his arms around Gladio's neck. Gladio pulled him close, his reluctance betraying his confusion. “I'm not human,” Ignis whispered, “I never was. I come from the sea, and now I must return to it.”_ _

__“I don't understand,” Gladio said, but he held Ignis tighter, as if he could also keep him safe._ _

__“You will,” Ignis replied. He pulled free of Gladio's embrace and unfastened his charm. Gladio’s hands cupped Ignis' cheek, one thumb brushing back and forth over it, leaving a chill wetness in its wake._ _

__“You're crying,” Gladio murmured._ _

__Ignis inhaled sharply, pushing his charm into Gladio’s chest. The shock when it made contact with his skin made Ignis gasp, confusion and loss arcing through him like a thunderbolt. He tied it around Gladio's neck with fumbling fingers, awash with fear and worry, and an overwhelming sense of grief. Gladio knew what was happening; Ignis could feel it. He knew this was Ignis saying goodbye._ _

__Ignis pressed his mouth to Gladio's in a hasty, graceless kiss. “You made me happy,” he told him, as if it would soften the blow for both of them._ _

__“Don't go,” Gladio said._ _

__“This is Ardyn’s price. It's you or me,” Ignis replied, “and I won't let him have you. You made me happy, Gladio. It was enough.” He found Gladio again in a hurried press of mouths, of longing and farewell spoken by the touch of lips and tongue. Ignis pulled away reluctantly, knowing he would spend every second of the rest of his life putting off departing if he could. “Now go and find someone who can do the same for you,” he said._ _

__It was a graceless jump into the water, more of a fall than a leap, and the last thing Ignis heard as the water closed over his head was Gladio shouting his name with panic in his voice._ _

__He felt the magic of the spell shattering like glass. It burned as water filled his mouth and lungs, and seared as his gills tore themselves open once more. He struggled to unfasten and push away the trousers as the weight of the material dragged him down. The bones in his legs splintered, breaking, as his tail reformed, and he cried out in agony._ _

__He kicked the trousers off with a couple of swipes of his tail, shaking the material loose, and then did the same with his shirt. His vision was starting to clear too, as if the darkness had been a silt cloud that was now settling._ _

__He could feel Ardyn deep below, beckoning, waiting, and he prepared to go meet him when the surface broke above his head. Ignis looked up to see Gladio, swimming through the water toward him._ _

__Time seemed to stop as Ignis finally saw the man he'd been falling for. He hadn't really looked when he'd saved him, he realised. Those eyes had stuck in his memory, and Ignis could never mistake the bulk of his body in his arms, but his beard was dark and trimmed short, giving a rugged edge to his handsomeness. He didn't have the graceful beauty of a merman. His strength wasn't lithe or delicate, but he was beautiful in his own way._ _

__Ignis swam back up, darting through the water faster than any human could ever swim, and captured Gladio in his arms. He dragged him back to the surface, and Gladio gasped for breath once there._ _

__“Iggy,” he said, choking and panting as Ignis settled his hands onto the side of his rowboat, “you're—”_ _

__“I told you, I'm not human,” Ignis replied._ _

__Gladio wiped his hair back out of his eyes. “But you're—” he tried again._ _

__“I wanted to tell you,” Ignis said, “I truly did, but I was afraid it might change everything.”_ _

__Gladio swallowed, and then Ignis found a warm hand resting on his cheek again. “It wouldn't have changed anything,” he said._ _

__Ignis looked at Gladio, his heart breaking. Closing his eyes, he moved in, letting Gladio tug him closer as he took one final kiss, as soft and sweet as their first. His scales shone a brilliant green as his tail coiled around Gladio's legs, and Ignis pressed as close as he could, kissing Gladio deeply and feeling his warmth for what he knew would be the last time._ _

__As he pulled back reluctantly, Gladio's hand drifted up to his cheek. “Don't go,” he pleaded again, and Ignis could feel the throb of his despair in his own chest._ _

__“I have to,” Ignis replied. “I'm the only one of us who can survive underwater.” He took Gladio's hand from his cheek and pressed a kiss to his palm. “Promise me you'll live.”_ _

__“Without you?” Gladio asked._ _

__Ignis touched his charm around Gladio's neck and smiled at him. “If you're happy, I'll feel it,” he said. “I'll feel it all. So please, go and be happy.”_ _

__Gladio swallowed, and Ignis felt doubt and despair creeping up on him as Gladio answered, “I'll try.”_ _

__Ardyn’s magic beckoned, urgent now. Ignis allowed himself one last look at Gladio, drifting slowly out of his reach. He didn't want to see the pain on Gladio’s face, that look of loss and despair, like he wanted to reach out for Ignis and beg him not to leave again, but turning away was harder still._ _

__He dove under the water in a flash, wrenching himself away from the place he wanted to be, his fins flashing above the surface briefly. Down he swam, following the pull of magic to where Ardyn awaited him._ _

__“A merman's life for a human's,” Ignis said. “Your toll is paid twice over.”_ _

__Ardyn smiled at him like something ancient and predatory from the darkest depths. “Your loyalty truly knows no bounds.”_ _


	8. Chapter Eight: Sacrifice

_Ignis was a mermaid._

_Ignis_ was a mermaid.

Ignis was a _mermaid._

Gladio paced the beach with his hands in his hair, trying to keep the thoughts in his head from spilling out into the air. Ignis. His Ignis, the beautiful, gentle blind man he'd taken in, the man he'd kissed, the man he'd fantasized about in the privacy of his own bed, was a _mermaid._

“And you knew?” he yelled at Prompto, trying to take that particular tidbit of information in at the same time.

It had seemed fine, out in the water, with Ignis' tail twined around his legs and his beautiful, bright green eyes looking at him for the first time ever. With the scars gone and his eyes clear, Gladio had been thunderstruck by Ignis’ beauty, and not even the fact that he had a tail and _gills_ could dampen Gladio’s desire for him.

Then he'd come ashore, and seen Prompto, and Prompto had asked where Ignis was and suddenly the fact that this was all _real_ and not some dream had hit Gladio like a tonne of bricks.

Prompto hadn't been surprised by the truth. He hadn't called Gladio a liar, or laughed at him, or anything that he should have done. Instead, Prompto had taken Gladio by the arm and dragged him off to the rocky part of the beach where they'd found Iggy, and told him to wait.

Prompto made an urgent hushing noise between his teeth, flapping one hand at Gladio as he gripped his necklace in the other hand and muttered something. Gladio couldn't hear what he was saying, although Prompto seemed to be concentrating very hard.

None of this made any sense. Prompto had known, but how? And what the hell was he supposed to do now? Ignis was gone, back to the sea where he belonged, but Gladio couldn’t accept that. He wanted Ignis back. There were so many questions he needed to ask, not least about how the hell he'd been human.

Banished, he'd said. Banished from the sea for the crime of saving a life or two.

The truth hit Gladio like a ship coming in too fast, first colliding, and then plowing right on through and destroying everything in its wake.

_Him_. It was him and Prompto. Those were the lives Ignis had saved.

“It was us, wasn't it?” he asked, sitting unsteadily on a rock while his head swam. “It was him. This whole time, Iggy was the one who saved my life.”

Prompto turned his back to the ocean for the first time since coming to this spot of the beach and looked at him.

“It took you 'til now to work that out?” said a voice from the water.

“Noct!” Prompto cried, and leapt into the surf.

Gladio looked up sharply. A boy, maybe Prompto's age, naked and pale, with black hair plastered to his face and the bluest eyes Gladio had ever seen, was reaching for Prompto's hand. Prompto pulled him up until he could grasp one of the rocks and haul himself onto it, and then Gladio saw the brilliant blue tail that started from his hips.

“You're Noct?” he asked, dumbly. This boy was the one Ignis had screamed for, the one Ignis had been banished for. Gladio wasn't sure if that made him want to smack the kid or thank him.

“Yeah,” Noct replied. “Where's Specky?”

“Specky?” Gladio repeated, lost in the conversation already.

“It's his nickname for Iggy,” Prompto supplied, nervous energy radiating off him. He fidgeted as he spoke, hovering near Noct as if the two of them had to put up a united front against Gladio.

“His tail was speckled when he was younger,” Noct supplied. “It's supposed to be a mark of beauty, so we called him Specky.”

A mark of beauty? Gladio huffed at that information. He'd seen Iggy's tail, and it was brilliant green, the sort you could see rainbows in when he moved. He didn't think Iggy could be any more beautiful.

But that was the thing, wasn't it? Ignis had a _tail_. He wasn't human. He never had been. “It was all a lie, wasn't it?” Gladio muttered, placing his head in his hands.

There was a splash of waves against the rocks, almost as if they'd been thrown, and Gladio looked up to see Noct's tail shimmering for a moment before the colour settled. “Do you really think he's that sort of person?” Noct challenged, venom in his tone. “You've spent nearly a season with him, and that's what you think?”

“He's a fish!” Gladio snapped. There was no other way to put it bluntly; Ignis was a merman, half fish, not even human. No wonder he hadn't known what coffee was, or that he'd marvelled at fire. They'd taken it for amnesia, but it wasn't, it was _culture shock_.

“He's still Ignis!” Noct bit back. “You think where he came from or what's below his waist changes anything about the person you know?”

Gladio struggled to answer. Ignis loved coffee, and Byron, and early mornings. He loved the softness of fine cotton against his skin, and placing his hands in the small of Gladio's back when they kissed, and no, none of that was different just because Ignis had a tail. “He lied,” Gladio replied. “I was...” _I was falling for him._ “He lied to me.”

“Not because he had a choice,” Noct said firmly. “Where is he?” he asked, turning to Prompto.

“He's gone back,” Prompto said awkwardly, and gesturing at Gladio. “He wasn't making much sense, and Ignis was gone, so...” he trailed off, and gestured at Gladio again.

“Ardyn,” Gladio said, drawing himself up to recant the tale. “Iggy mentioned someone named Ardyn. Something about him coming back for us, and Iggy couldn't let him have me.”

“It was Ardyn?” Noct asked weakly. He seemed stunned, even distressed, by the information, his tail drooping listlessly in the water.

“Who the fuck is Ardyn?” Gladio asked, already sick of hearing the name. Ignis was a mermaid, and some guy was out for Gladio, and nothing made sense any more—and worst of all, Ignis wasn't here. Gladio wanted to hold him and forgive him for lying, but he also wanted so many answers from him that his head spun with the questions.

“He's a witch,” Noct answered. “A really powerful one. He hates humans.”

“What's he got against humans?” Prompto asked.

Noct sighed, flashing Prompto an apologetic look. “The same thing as the rest of us?” he offered. “You drag nets through our homes, catch our fish, and poison our water. That's why we hide from you.”

Gladio listened to Noct explain, staring blankly at the water lapping on the beach. “That why it's against your laws to save us?” he asked.

Noct gave a nod, frowning. “But it's not right,” he said. “Our laws say we should have let you drown, but you're good people. We could sense that, so we saved you.” He looked down at the water, his tail twitching unhappily, like someone scuffing their foot. “Specky took banishment to save me, so I went to Ardyn and I brought him a spell.”

“To make him human,” Gladio intoned, slotting the pieces together in his own head.

“No,” Noct said vehemently, “it was supposed to give him a chance at happiness. It was supposed to set events into motion that would let Ignis have what he wanted out of life.” He took a deep breath, and then sighed heavily. “But it turned him human and he nearly drowned, so I brought him here.” Gladio glanced at Noct, who looked just as defeated as Gladio felt inside. “Where we come from, if someone saves your life, you owe them. I thought it might work both ways, and that we couldn’t understand how the spell worked, but when I saw him last...” He shook his head, looping his arms around the back of his tail and tugging it toward himself. “I realised that maybe his happiness wasn't with us after all.”

Gladio felt his throat drying out. _You made me happy_. Those had been Iggy's parting words to him. “He went to Ardyn for me. He said I made him happy, and that it was enough.”

“If he gave up on happiness, then he broke the spell,” Noct said.

“So he's going to be miserable as a merman, for Gladio's sake?” Prompto asked.

Noct scowled, his shoulders hunching. “If he's with Ardyn, he'll be worse than miserable,” he said. “Specky is pretty powerful—with magic, I mean. Ardyn will use him.”

“Like fuck he will,” Gladio said, gritting his teeth. Iggy had surrendered his home and his happiness to save Gladio’s life. That alone was bad enough, but that he'd willingly given himself up to someone he knew would use him? No. Gladio wasn't about to let it end like that. “How do we get Iggy back?”

Noct shook his head. “He gave himself in your place. It's like a magical contract. The only way to free him is if one of them dies, or Ardyn doesn't hold up his end of it.”

“So we have to kill the guy?” Prompto asked, sounding more and more nervous with each word, shuffling his weight and fidgeting with his hands.

Noct laughed humourlessly. “ _Not_ that easy,” he said. “I'm pretty strong, but I don't think I could do it. You've got no chance.”

Gladio considered that. It left them with one option that he could see, because leaving Ignis behind wasn't among them. “So how do we get him to break his own contract?”

Noct looked at Gladio, and Gladio held that blue eyed gaze as he was studied. “How much are you willing to put on the line for Specky?”

Gladio didn't flinch at the question, instead taking a deep breath and drawing himself up. “He saved my life twice. I at least owe him that.”

Noct continued to examine Gladio, his tail swishing thoughtfully, and then he gave a nod. “We can work with that.”

*****

“Just so I've got this clear,” Prompto said, asking the same question for the third time in the vain hope that he might get a different answer if he kept at it, “we're bait?”

“That about sums it up,” Gladio agreed, only paying a quarter of his full attention. Noct had left them a mile back, and sailing a glorified dinghy this far out to sea was dangerous enough without knowing you were crossing some threshold that would draw a magical lunatic to you.

“Us two,” Prompto pressed, “in this tiny little boat.”

“You could have stayed ashore,” Gladio snapped at him, though it was the dull, inattentive jab of a man with other things on his mind.

“I'm not saying that!” Prompto hurried to protest, his voice rising in urgency. “I just wish we could have brought a bigger boat.” He looked around unhappily. The shore was almost lost in the distance, as was any hope of help, and there was nothing but blue seas and blue sky around them. It was kind of unsettling, really. “Like a galleon,” he added.

“Less whining, more working,” Gladio said, shifting to start reeling the sail in. “We're almost there.”

“Did I mention that I don't like this plan?” Prompto said as he got up to help.

*****

The shine of Ignis' tail had dulled, becoming as drained as he felt as he obediently pushed a stoppered vial onto one of Ardyn's shelves.

“Thank you, dear boy,” Ardyn purred. “Do let me know if you feel like producing any more.”

“Of course,” Ignis answered, and sincerely hoped he wouldn't. It wasn't just the way it felt to cry with no consolation, to sit and wallow with only one's own heartbreak for company. Ignis also didn't want to hand over such a powerful thing as mermaid tears to Ardyn again.

He hadn't been able to help it. Gladio's confusion and grief had flared in his chest and resonated there, and he'd known that somewhere in his castle, Gladio had been alone with his own tears. He could feel them as well as if they'd tracked down his own face, a few minutes spent in helpless fear and loss, and he'd wanted nothing more than to go to Gladio and take him into his arms.

Instead, he'd been faced with Ardyn pressing an empty bottle into his hand, and giving him that shark's smile. Ardyn had let him be for the evening at least, although there was no comfortable hollow for Ignis to nestle into and sleep. Not that Ignis _could_ sleep. He'd drifted off at one point, and his traitorous brain had taken him back to the shore, back into the library and Gladio's arms, where the press of his mouth had been urgent and heated, and Ignis' skin had flamed.

He'd woken, consumed by longing and loss, to find Ardyn still awake, flitting around his lair doing the depths knew what.

Ignis was tired, and the grim determination that had emitted from Gladio since the early morning was both a source of comfort and concern. He hoped that one day Gladio would move on, that Ignis would feel him falling for some eligible girl and finding happiness. Perhaps he could learn to love the princess, if he gave her the same chance he'd given to Ignis. Perhaps he could build a happy marriage out of their betrothal. Ignis would be content with that. He'd know it the day Gladio married, the day he held his first child. It would be enough to feel that happiness through him.

It was late morning when he felt the irresistible pull of a human wearing a mermaid's charm in the water. It made his fins shiver and his scales tingle.

Ardyn noticed it, too, giving Ignis a curious look as he fought the compulsion to swim out, and to Gladio. Ignis backed off as he approached, one hand extending toward his face. Ardyn's touch made him recoil. Those fingers were cold and unpleasant against his skin as they stroked Ignis' cheek.

“He's calling to you, isn't he?” he asked. Ignis flitted back, twisting away from the touch.

“What of it?” he asked, glowering at Ardyn with defiant venom.

“A human that calls to a mermaid is entitled to an answer,” he said.

Ignis could feel the trap opening under him. He didn't know what game Gladio was playing, what fool idea he'd taken into his head, but he could feel him nearby, the charm around his neck beckoning to Ignis with a magic so strong it was hard to resist. 

“Then let me go to him,” he said, feeling his chest throb as Gladio pulled on that connection. If Gladio continued, Ignis would have no choice but to respond. But Ignis would rather not lead Ardyn straight to him.

Prompto must have told him how to do it. Noct had likely told Prompto how to call to him with it, and now Gladio was doing the same.

“Oh, but that won't do,” Ardyn said, extending his hand again. “You're currently indisposed,” he said, as the water turned black around his hand and extended inky tendrils toward Ignis. Ignis gave a flash of his tail, pulling out of its reach, but the blackness exploded outward, filling the room, and Ignis felt it choking his gills and sticking to his scales, worming its way under them.

“But since you're mine, I'll go in your stead.”

The words settled in Ignis' mind, and he fought against them, and against the feeling of taint and restriction that tried to swallow him. It swamped his senses and blotted out Gladio’s call, enveloping him in something dark and oily that was still somehow comforting. He needed to be free of it, he needed to go to Gladio, he needed to warn him, he needed...

He needed...

Something pierced the gloom, something bright and golden, like the sun. Something reached in, and took Ignis' arm, and _pulled_.

“You okay there, Specky?”

The voice washed through Ignis' insides, driving the corruption away like the sun chasing shadows, and blue eyes came into focus.

“Noct!” Clean seawater through his gills was as refreshing as the first gasp of air had been when he'd become human, and Ignis shook Ardyn's influence from his mind. “Gladio!” he began, trying to explain in a hurry, “he's—”

“Protected,” Noct said, gripping both of Ignis' arms. “Don't worry, I've got them both.”

“Both?” Ignis asked, and then realisation dawned. _Prompto_.

“Yeah,” Noct gave a nod. “Now come on, let's get you out of here.”

It was the hardest, longest swim of Ignis' life. Clear of Ardyn’s cloying magic, he could feel Gladio more keenly. He was no longer in the water, but he was pumped with adrenaline, in danger. Noct swam with a fierce determination straight toward the surface, undoubtedly feeling the same from Prompto.

Magic permeated the water as they approached the surface. The waves roiled and the sky was dark, but Ignis could just make out the hull of a boat. Bigger than Gladio's rowing boat, smaller than anything that could stand a chance against the waves, yet it had remained resolutely afloat. Gladio was up there. Ignis could feel him, protected by Noct's charm at full power, holding off against the magic that was trying to pull them under.

Ardyn was nearby, too, churning the water into a storm, darkening the sky above. Ignis doubted he'd noticed their presence with so much of his own magic in the water. Noct gave him a significant look, and Ignis nodded, knowing what he was thinking. It was an opportunity; if they could distract Ardyn with an attack, his influence on the storm would weaken, giving Prompto and Gladio a chance to breathe and regroup.

“Flank him,” Ignis advised, pointing Noct in the right direction.

“You got it,” Noct answered.

Ignis watched him go, and checked on the position of the boat, seeking Ardyn in the water and finding him with pinpoint accuracy. Ignis could feel him, at the heart of the building storm, in the centre of the dark pall within the water. He drew closer, as close as he dared, as pulses of magic threw powerful waves at the boat. Ardyn was trying to capsize it, but Noct's protection held strong.

Ignis counted to three, extending his arm, and released his own magic into the water. The ocean boiled, and a split second later, it glowed as Noct's light burst through as well, dispelling the darkness. Ardyn's attack on the boat ceased, though the waves and the storm did not. He turned, rounding on Noct, and Ignis dashed closer, hitting Ardyn with another wave of his own magic, hot and biting.

It hit Ardyn in the back, and he spun in the water, darkness oozing from his eyes and mouth, and then the water _exploded_. Ignis reeled as he was blown away by the sudden current, incapable of fighting it. It shot him out of the ocean, and he twisted uselessly through the air before he landed hard on the surface.

“Iggy!”

Ignis felt as if he'd been pummelled all over, every part of him stinging with the impact. There was a splash of something else landing in the water, and Ignis shook himself, trying to recover his senses quickly. Ardyn wouldn't stop at one attack. He was likely going for Noct now, who was the bigger threat. The rest of them were only minor annoyances.

Splashing approached, and Ignis twisted to see Gladio struggling in the waves to reach him. “Idiot,” he hissed, as Gladio's hand found his arm. “I can breathe water; you can't.”

A shockwave went through the water again, and Gladio shielded Ignis' head against his chest as something flew out of the water and over their heads. For a horrible moment, Ignis thought it was Noct, blasted back as he had been, and then he saw the grey colour of some poor shark caught in the crossfire. “Come on,” Gladio said, and paused to spit out the water that lapped into his mouth. He tugged on Ignis' arm, heading for the boat, and Ignis went with him.

Pale and horrified, Prompto reached over the side of the boat to grab Gladio's shirt and help haul him into the boat. The water around it was eerily still, and Ignis could feel Noct's influence holding it steady in the storm that tried to wash over it. He looked up, seeing the charm around Prompto's neck glowing a faint blue as he pulled Gladio over, and then extended his hand to Ignis.

Gladio's hand soon followed, and Ignis looked up into his amber eyes, seeing the relief in them echoing the worry that resonated in his own chest. “You came back for me,” he said.

Gladio gave a small huff. “Like I was gonna leave you,” he replied.

Ignis swallowed and reached up, taking Gladio's hand, and then Prompto's. Their palms were warm in his, and Ignis gave a hard flick of his tail as they pulled, dragging him onto the boat. “Whose foolish plan was this?” Ignis asked.

“Uh, Noct's,” Prompto said, betraying his friend in an instant, “and Gladio's.” Gladio shot him a look. “Well, it was!”

Ignis shook his head. The boat lurched as the water roiled around them, but Noct's charm held fast, and Ignis gave up on reprimanding the two idiots to look out across the sea. “He can't win alone,” he said.

“He's not alone,” Prompto said, reaching up to curl his fingers around Noct's charm.

Ignis looked at Prompto, at the fierce determination in his eyes despite his pale skin and the nervous set of his mouth, and he gave the boy a nod. “Give it to me?” he asked, holding his hand out for it. “He needs it now.”

“Iggy,” Gladio protested, his hand going to Ignis' shoulder, “you can't go back in there.”

“I'll be fine,” he said. “I told you; I can breathe underwater, you can't.”

The boat rocked on the water as Prompto removed the charm and dropped it into Ignis' waiting hand. The magical protection that was keeping the boat stable in the churning sea had begun to fade, and Ignis swallowed as Gladio gripped the side of the boat and held fast against the rocking swell. Prompto sprawled to the floor, pushing himself back up hastily. “Hurry!”

Ignis took a deep breath and threw himself at Gladio. The kiss was quick, clumsy, a mere graze of lips. “I'll try and hold the protection,” he said as he pulled back just as quickly, and then hauled himself over the side of the boat before Gladio had a chance to grab at him.

Keeping one thought on the boat was hard as he fought through the churning water. Ardyn's dark influence, and Noct's dispelling light, wove through it like currents. Ignis found a stream of bright, pure magic and followed it, unable to pinpoint their locations from their magic alone; there was just too much of it all around. Noct was a flash of glimmering blue in the dark, and Ignis powered after him. He was dragged off course by a dark sweep of current, but fought against it, blasting his own magic back into the stream to lessen its power.

Noct was tiring when Ignis reached him, sagging in the water between pulsing waves of his own magic. “Here,” he said, putting his arms around Noct.

“Ignis.” Noct looked at him, his eyes half glazed. “You have to get out of here. I can't hold him off.”

Ignis shook his head, his fingers fumbling with the charm as he fastened it around Noct's neck. “We're with you,” he said. As the charm settled back against Noct's skin, Ignis saw it glow once more. “You're not alone.”

Noct looked at him, and Ignis gave him a small smile. “Be quick, I can't hold them safe for long.”

Noct's eyes widened. “Specky—”

Ignis placed two fingers on Noct's charm. It was like touching sunrise. It was warm, and kind, and filled with laughter, but it burned, too, and Ignis added his own heat, as much as he could, as much as he dared when he had to protect the boat on the surface, too. He felt the heat leaving him, and the cold creeping into its place, up his tail, sweeping in and around his scales. It slithered up his back, and through his chest, and down his arms.

Ignis let go, exhausted and cold, but Noct shone more brilliantly in the darkness than he had before. “Go,” he said.

Noct's lip trembled as he struggled to find something to say. A swath of dark magic was coming their way, and he raised his arm and threw it aside like it was nothing. “Hold on, Specky,” he said.

Ignis watched as a blue glow suffused Noct's entire body, and then erupted out into the water around him, forming weapons that began to circle him. It was the last thing Ignis saw before Noct swam, with a strength and power he'd never managed alone, looking every inch the King Ignis had known he could one day be, to face Ardyn down.

Swimming was hard, and each breath was an effort as Ignis made his way to the surface. The currents and shockwaves from Noct's continuing battle tossed him this way and that, and it grew difficult to keep track of which way was up. His only tether to the surface was Gladio, and Ignis headed toward him.

He barely heard someone shouting his name, didn't feel it when he bumped into the side of the boat and floated there listlessly. He didn't fight the arms that reached down and grabbed him, but he couldn't help them either as they fought to pull him in, scraping his back against the boat as they hauled. Arms wrapped around him, and a hand cradled his face. A familiar voice called his name over and over, but responding to it was too hard; it was all he could do to stay conscious, to keep the safety of the boat and its passengers in mind as he used what little energy he had left to maintain the barrier around it.

Lips pressed against his forehead, and a warm hand enveloped his cold one. Arms bundled him tightly into a delicious warmth he never wanted to leave again. “Gladio,” he murmured, knowing it was him.

“The storm!” Prompto's voice barely punched through Ignis' consciousness, but he knew what it meant. If the storm was clearing, then Noct had won.

Ignis fought to open his eyes, fought to squeeze the fingers holding his hand. “It's all right,” he said softly, “you're all right.”

He was drawn away from the warmth, but it didn't matter as he looked up into amber eyes and smiled. Then Ignis let go of his hold on the boat, and let himself slip into the beckoning arms of sleep.

*****

“Iggy? Iggy!”

“ _Noct!”_ Prompto's scream near deafened Gladio, but he didn't care. Prompto could hang over the side of the boat and shout for the other mermaid all he wanted. Gladio was preoccupied with running his fingers over Ignis's throat, checking for a pulse. He was breathing, weakly, but Gladio could see his gills flexing more slowly, more desperately, like a stranded fish gasping for water to breathe.

Ignis breathed water. He'd always seemed to breathe air, too, but Gladio didn't know if he had to concentrate to do that. He picked Ignis up in both arms and jumped into the sea with him. Staying above the surface was hard with another body's weight dragging him down, but he kicked, and tried to keep Ignis' gills beneath the water line.

Noct broke the surface a short distance away, and then dived below again with a flash of blue tail. He looked exhausted when he surfaced in front of Gladio, placing his hand on Ignis' chest.

“You said we'd save him,” he said, accusing, and angry, and hurt. Ignis was dying in his arms, and if they'd just left well alone he'd have lived, if miserably.

Noct shook his head. “He gave me his magic. He knew.” He paused and swallowed as he moved his hand to Ignis' forehead. “He knew what it would do.”

Gladio glared at him. “So give it back! You're done with it now, right?”

The pain and despair on Noct's face hit home for a second as he gave Gladio the lost look of a little boy watching his brother die. “It's not that simple.”

“There has to be something!”

Noct looked lost, glancing up at Prompto, and then back at Gladio, and then his eyes fell lower, and his expression changed to one of grim purpose. “Promise me you'll take care of him,” he said.

Gladio looked at Noct as if he was mad. “What?”

“Promise me,” Noct said. “Will you take care of him?”

“Of course I will!” Gladio snapped. This was pointless time-wasting. Of course he'd take care of Ignis. He'd take care of Ignis every day for the rest of his life if it would save him right now.

Noct reached forward, carefully unfastening the charm around Gladio's neck. Gladio tried not to be too concerned by the way Noct's hands shook; if he had an idea, it was worth a shot. Gladio would try anything right now.

He cooperated when Noct placed the charm in Ignis' hand, and then placed Ignis' hand in his. Prompto leaned on the side of the boat's railing, a silent, worried presence at Gladio's back, watching Noct work. Noct took a deep breath before he closed both of his hands around Gladio and Ignis', and then Gladio felt warmth suffusing him.

It started in his fingers, and swept down to his chest, swirling around his heart. Slowly, Ignis' hand in his began to warm up, too, and the colour seemed to come back to his unnaturally pale skin. His gills closed, and Gladio watched as Ignis took a deep breath through his mouth, his chest rising and falling. He was warmer in Gladio's embrace, and Gladio felt something shift below the surface as the texture of Ignis' scales changed and became skin, became legs.

Ignis opened his eyes and met Gladio's gaze, and Gladio felt relief wash through him. Prompto gave a whoop.

“I've tied your life to his,” Noct said, as Ignis blinked and seemed to start coming back to himself. “As long as you live, so will he.”

Noct's hands fell away, and Gladio pulled Ignis upright in the water, smiling at him like he'd seen him for the first time in years.

“Gladio?” he asked.

Gladio shushed him, drawing him close. Ignis clung to him as Gladio murmured, “I got you,” and tied the charm back into its rightful place around Ignis' neck.

“Noct?” he asked, turning slightly in Gladio's arms to look at his prince.

Noct gave an awkward shrug, the kind only a teenager could truly manage. “Sorry,” he said, “you're going to have to live happily ever after.”

Ignis gave a cough of laughter, turning back to Gladio, who smiled down at him like he'd never been happier.

“Looks like you get your chance to really fall in love after all, big guy,” Prompto said, leaning over them both.

Gladio glanced up at him, and then back at Ignis, cupping his face with one hand. “I already have,” he said, and then leaned in to claim Ignis' mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done.
> 
> Thanks again to everyone that has read, kudos'd, and commented. I hope you all enjoyed Gladnis Week.
> 
> Now... Onward to Fluff week!


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